Denial || Men Like Me
Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1
Masterlist
Fandom: The Last of Us
Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader
Rating: 18+
Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries.
Word count: 10.4k
Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him.
A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .
“Long day, huh?”
“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey.
“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole.
“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance.
“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.
“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.”
Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great.
There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there.
Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process.
You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook.
Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom?
Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.
You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.
The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were.
You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter.
He never came.
You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity?
Naive, stupid girl.
“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”
Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you.
You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.
“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you.
Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.
Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.
Not anymore.
You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.
As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch.
Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time.
You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again.
Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.
⌘
“How are the windows lookin’?”
“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.”
“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.”
Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.
Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.
No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family.
“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”
A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them.
If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.
Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.
“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past.
Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy.
“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.”
“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood.
He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment.
You were so young.
Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself.
Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?
“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.”
Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful.
Not meant for men like him.
Yet he went the next day.
The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried.
Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.
“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.”
“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”
“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested.
“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.”
“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.”
“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves.
“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this.
“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved.
Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”
It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips.
Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane.
The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.
You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire.
A virgin, too.
His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope.
He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.
You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess.
It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman.
It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.
You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room.
He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’.
He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you.
On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel. The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.
It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly.
He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.
⌘
“Cool jacket, dude!”
“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”
“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.”
“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.
“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends.
He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good.
Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.
You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it.
He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front.
“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.
You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”
“You’ve never come here, so I thought…”
“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.
“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once.
Shit. He probably already thought that.
“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”
You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.
The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch.
You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house.
But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new.
“No decorations, huh?”
“What?”
“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.
“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.”
“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.”
“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.”
Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans.
“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern.
“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself.
Touched yourself and moaned his name.
“Upstairs, second door to the left.”
You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat.
You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you.
He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy.
Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him.
You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake!
Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation.
You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you.
The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel.
You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate.
You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying.
You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch.
Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time.
As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever.
You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.
Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense.
This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties.
So he wanted you.
If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties.
You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same?
Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head.
He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.
“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!”
“What?”
“Come up here!”
“What happened?”
“Just come here.”
You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom.
“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.
“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.
“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!”
“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”
You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”
You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use.
“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel.
He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.”
“Maybe I want you to do this again…”
“You don’t. Trust me.”
“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?”
You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.
“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ”
“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb.
He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable.
“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.”
“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again.
“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.”
“Mhmm.”
“Show me how you did it.”
“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised.
“Show. Me. How you did it.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”
You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down.
He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness.
“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response.
“Take your clothes off.”
It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done.
You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized.
“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”
You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.”
The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof.
He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him.
When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.
“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze.
“Kneel.”
You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up.
“On the floor.”
One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did.
“You look pretty on your knees.”
He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there.
“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.”
Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent.
Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity.
Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.”
No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little.
Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.
You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.
“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.
“I’m not backing out.”
“First time seeing one?”
“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?”
“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.”
You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.”
You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?”
“No.”
“Then get back on your fucking knees.”
You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Fuck! That fucking word again.
“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”
He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.
Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then.
“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in.
“What are you begging for?”
“You. Y-your penis.”
“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”
“Your cock, Sir.”
“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you.
“Did…? Did you?”
“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.”
“Oh.”
He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past.
He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place.
“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.”
You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.
“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”
He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.”
To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.”
“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.”
There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.
“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.”
You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.”
Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length.
“Ask me for it.”
“Please,” you whined.
“Please, what?”
“P-please fuck my face. Sir.”
He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire.
He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses.
But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson.
Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.
He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now.
You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released.
He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back.
But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy.
He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room.
He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before.
He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!”
“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…”
“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.”
“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit.
“What was that?”
You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural.
“Joel…”
“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face.
“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?”
There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt.
You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly.
He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand.
“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”
As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.
⌘
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THE GREAT WAR
PART I ♤ SECRET PREGNANCY AU
A/N: After seven months, it's finally here. Part I of Giyuu's Bundle of Joy. This fic involved a ton of research and tears. I hope you all enjoy. Special shout-out to @squishybabei @kentohours @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 @ghost-1-y and @xxsabitoxx for letting me bombard your DMs with endless snippets from this fic for feedback. Note that this is a multi-part fic, and it will be a non-linear story.
CW: explicit sexual content ☼ MDNI ☼ loss of virginity ☼ unprotected sex ☼ protective/possessive Giyuu ☼ canon-typical violence
LISTEN TO THE PLAYLIST HERE
January, 1915
The moon’s rays filtered through the sparse canopy of the trees from above, bathing that small portion of the forest in its silvery glow. There, about twenty paces ahead, Giyuu locked eyes on his target.
A demon; one he’d been pursuing through the dense forest separating his Manor from the base of a great mountain for the last several miles
The demon had yet to notice him, for it was focused entirely on its own prey — a human woman, who was frantically zigzagging as she ran in a desperate effort to evade its clutches.
She was succeeding rather well in her endeavor, managing to dart out of the beast’s reach right as it snapped its sharp, deadly claws at her back. But the girl then miscalculated her movements and stumbled over something — whether it was a tree root or her own feet, he could not say — and she went airborne. For one, sickening moment, Giyuu feared he would not be fast enough to save her from falling victim to the demon he was readying to kill.
The girl squealed as she fell, just narrowly managing to avoid the swipe of the beast’s claws as they cut uselessly at the air where her back had been only seconds before. Something long and wooden flew from her hand as she sprawled across the forest floor – a broom.
Odd.
Steps quick and even, Giyuu’s thumb flicked his sword free from its scabbard. Within seconds of him drawing his weapon, the Slayer’s blade sliced seamlessly through the demon’s neck, its head thudding pathetically to the forest floor before the beast could comprehend the threat.
He landed swiftly on the balls of his feet, the Water Pillar quickly shaking his blade free of the demon’s blackened, rotted blood before sheathing it at his hip. A quick job – that was how he liked it; free of fuss.
Behind him, he heard the leaves coating the frozen ground of the forest shift and crack as the human girl he’d rescued rose to her feet. He grimaced; while helping rid the world of the blight inflicted upon it by demons was his life’s sole and true purpose, and one he fulfilled without hesitation, he was little more than a fish out of water when it came to talking to those he helped.
The girl had yet to flee; Giyuu suspected she might be in shock, if not a bit simple, and he sought to prod her along. After all, the sooner she left the forest, the less likely she’d end up a demon’s meal and waste his efforts in preserving her life.
“You should be fine now. Please return to your ho-,” The dark-haired Slayer’s words were cut off with a sputter as the head of the woman’s broom whacked him sharply up the side of his skull.
Giyuu stood there for a moment, dazed and slightly confused as he turned towards the woman whose life he’d just preserved.
The Water Pillar had not paid her much mind upon discovering her seconds away from becoming the slain horned demon’s newest meal, his attention having been entirely focused on eliminating his target. But now, without the distracting threat of a man-eating beast, he could see she was clad in the traditional attire worn by Shinto priestesses, though she looked far too young to have achieved such a status. Instead, she appeared to be much closer to himself in age. The front of her red hakama pants were streaked in mud and dirt from her fall, and several strands of hair had fallen loose from where they’d been gathered in a ribbon just below her shoulders.
And she was glaring at him.
“What are you?” She demanded, and the Water Pillar noted the faint tremor in her voice that she worked to conceal behind her defensive stance, her broom braced in front of her like a blade.
A slow blink. “I am Tomioka.”
It baffled him that he let his name slide so freely when he’d never been one particularly keen on sharing it. Yet, he’d thought that perhaps the exchange of names would get the wild woman before him to calm, and perhaps lower the sweeping tool —-
“What the hell is a Tomioka?”
Giyuu wondered whether the — Miko, that was what young priestesses in training were called — had hit her head in the fall. “My name.”
A faint dusting of red spread across the Miko’s cheeks as she realized the absurdity of her mistake, though she still did not lower her weapon. Rather, she jutted it towards him in what Giyuu thought may have been an attempt to be threatening.
“And what was that thing just now, Tomioka? And what are you?” Quickly, her eyes swept behind him, scanning. “Are there more?”
Idly, Giyuu wondered why he was bothering to indulge in such a silly conversation to begin with, chalking it up to the mere fact that they were still in a dark forest, with dawn still several hours away.
The foolish girl would end up a snack for another demon if she did not turn around and go home.
“It was a demon. I’d been tracking it for several miles when it stumbled across you. You can count yourself lucky — do not hit me again.” He cut off with a warning, eyes narrowing as the Miko drew the broom back up over her head.
There was a tense moment as the two regarded one another, Giyuu’s eyes locked on the Miko’s trembling arm as she stared distrustfully back at him.
The girl’s hands twitched as the broom cleaved through the air once more, but Giyuu knocked it easily away, sending the cleaning tool flying uselessly to the side where it rolled under a bush.
“Are you finished?” Giyuu asked, irritation creeping into his tone as he stared coolly at the flustered Miko.
“You’ve stripped me of my only weapon, so I suppose I have no choice,” the young woman sniffed, her tone as frosty as his glare.
Giyuu grimaced. “You would not have lost the privilege had you simply done as I asked.”
The Miko folded her arms stubbornly across her chest and glowered at him. “You would truly leave a woman defenseless in the woods? With nothing to protect herself?”
Giyuu scoffed. “You are not a woman; you are a menace.”
The young woman’s mouth opened and closed several times as her face flushed several shades deeper. “Y-you!”
A crack! somewhere in the woods made the sputtering Miko fall silent with a small squeak, and Giyuu was bemused to find that the woman’s hands shot to him for safety, when only moments before she’d tried to clobber him away from her.
“You said that…that thing earlier was a demon, yes?” She whispered and Giyuu nodded, tense as his eyes swept through the shadowy line of the trees, searching.
“Do you think there are more?”
“So long as we continue sitting here like a pair of lame ducks, more are bound to come sniffing.” The wary Pillar replied. “Which is why I suggest you return home — without bludgeoning me further.”
The young Priestess continued to cling to his arm, her eyes wide and anxious. Giyuu cleared this throat, and when the woman’s attention snapped back to him, he pointedly glanced down at her white-knuckled grip on the sleeve of his haori.
“Apologies,” the Miko blushed, and her hands quickly relinquished their hold on his sleeve. She wrung her hands nervously before her. “Might you escort me back to my Shrine? It’s not far from here – less than two kilometers.”
Still within his territory — albeit at the opposite end of the forest where is own Manor stood. He grimaced, but nodded stiffly. His efforts to save the woman’s life would be in vain if she walked away from him and straight into the waiting, eager claws of another beast that lurked in the shadows.
The Miko smiled brightly at him and offered her name. Giyuu elected not to reply, and the girl settled into step at his side, a small frown pulling at her lips.
“I’m sorry for earlier — for hitting you with my broom.” The girl — Y/N — said a short while later, the faintest trace of shyness in her tone.
Giyuu did not think the apology warranted a response, and so he gave none, but the chatty little devil prodded him once more.
“Did I injure you?” She gestured to the side of his head where her broom had caught him.
Giyuu snorted, raising an eyebrow at her. “The day I am hurt by a mere broom is the day I retire from the Demon Slayer Corps.”
Y/N hummed in contemplation. “And what exactly is the great and mysterious Demon Slayer Corps?”
The Water Pillar’s eyes remained forward. “I should think the name is self-explanatory. There are demons who eat humans. We slay them.”
Inwardly, Giyuu cringed at the harshness of his words. It did not happen often, but there were times when he wished he was better with them, when he wished he did not come off quite as aloof and callous —
“You do not know how to talk to people very well, do you Tomioka-sama?” Y/N’s tone was not judgmental; it rather had a mild curiosity to it, as though she were merely commenting on the weather or the quality of a cup of tea.
But the Water Pillar did not know how to answer her. Kocho once told him that others disliked him, but Giyuu wasn’t sure that was entirely true; after all, no one had ever said so much to his face.
Then again, if the young shrine maiden’s words were anything to go by, then perhaps the Insect Pillar’s scathing assessment hadn’t been too far off the mark.
“What even brought you into the forest so late at night?” Giyuu did not know why the question needled at him, but he found the pressing silence of the trees more disconcerting than the Miko’s voice, and so he was desperate for the distraction. “And why a broom?”
Y/N herself seemed surprised at his sudden interest. “Night-blooming herbs,” she said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They are critical for certain rites and medications. And I cannot collect them any other time. The broom was for protection, obviously.”
“I wasn’t aware shrines still performed rituals,” Giyuu pushed an errant tree branch out of their way, and ahead, faint lights began to swim into view. The Shrine. “Are you not a mere relic of a time long since-passed?”
“I’ll have you know that we still perform basic cleansing rites for those in the village,” Y/N bristled. “And we provide medical aid, since there is no hospital nearby.”
She shot him a cold look. “Modern medicine would not have developed but for ancient practices such as ours.”
Giyuu frowned. He hadn’t meant to insult the woman. “Be that as it may,” he said flatly. “Demons prowl at night. You wandering into the forest none the wiser is akin to you waltzing into their territory with a giant sign that says ‘Eat me.’”
Y/N grimaced. “Then what would you have me do? Neglect my duties?”
He could sympathize with that. “No, I’m not saying you should forsake your obligations,” he furrowed his eyebrows at the thought. “Perhaps it is simply a risk you must take. But you should at least be aware of your surroundings.”
Y/N looked upon him with a miserable expression. “You’re of little help, you know that?”
Giyuu only frowned, perplexed as to why she couldn’t understand the import of his words.
An awkward silence ensued, punctured only by the faint hoot of an owl. For that, the established swordsman was grateful; noise meant the absence of predators, which meant they were safe – for now.
“You mentioned tracking the demon earlier – how long had you been doing so?”
“A while.”
The girl was relentless. “And you just so happened to track it here? Where it was conveniently chasing me?”
“I patrol this region. Your rescue was nothing more than coincidence and luck on your part.”
“My gratitude is endless,” the shrine maiden said drily. “Forgive me for not falling to the ground in prostration.”
At that, Giyuu fell silent and refused to engage in any further conversation. The shrine maiden, for her part, seemed to take his cue that he had no interest in her or exchanging meaningless pleasantries, and so she too, went quiet.
The forest floor eventually began to slope gradually up, and before long, Giyuu found himself walking along a carved rock path that curved through the trees until it widened at a great set of stone stairs. At the very top of the steep incline, he could spot a great Torii gate.
Y/N turned to him with a beaming smile. “Allow me to introduce you to the Shrine." Tomioka opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly added, “You should at least know who it is you have dedicated your life to protecting.”
“I’d rather not.”
But she was already leading him up the stairs, his wrist pinched delicately between two of her fingers. Realistically, Giyuu knew it would take him no effort to shake the woman’s hold and disappear into the night. But to his own bemusement, he allowed her to tote him behind her as though he were little more than a useless pet.
The pair passed under the Torrii and into a sprawling courtyard. Though night sky was a deep, inky black, the perimeter of the courtyard was dotted with several stone lanterns -- toro -- each of which had been lit with a generous flame. Giyuu's quick perusal of the Shrine, however, was cut short as the Miko led him into the Shrine's main structure -- the honden -- and tugged him down a narrow hallway. Based on his rough appraisal of the building, Giyuu surmised she was taking him to the center of the honden, likely where the girl's master was.
His theory was proven correct when Y/N drew up to a great slat of shoji panneling. The Miko knocked softly on one of the wooden beams before she slid the door aside, revealing a great, open room that was littered with scrolls, half-dried pots of ink, and burned incense sticks. There, in the center of the room, knelt the head Priestess of the Shrine. She was an old, shriveled, wrinkled thing. The white hair that she’d gathered into a knot at her neck was as wispy as the thinnest clouds, and a quick glance over her hands revealed swollen joints covered by skin spotted with age.
But the Priestess did not appear to be a gentle elder by any means; her thin mouth was curled down into a sneer that was directed at the Miko at his side, and her eyes were hard and cold.
"Head Priestess," Y/N bowed to her elder. "This man is called Tomioka, and he helped save me tonight in the forest."
Giyuu resisted the urge to snort. Helped, indeed.
The old woman's eyes shone bright with an emotion he could not name as the Miko continued. "A creature attacked me as I was returning home. Tomioka says he is a swordsman whose occupation --"
“I know what he is, girl,” the Priestess snapped at her student before she turned those beady eyes to him. “A member of the Demon Slayer Corps will always be welcome at this Shrine – particularly one as esteemed as yourself.”
The Water Pillar straightened at the old woman’s casual mention of the Corps. “I was not aware that of any Shrines so affiliated with the Corps.”
“There was a time when the Demon Slayer Corps would partner with shrines such as this to carry out its mission,” the Priestess replied evenly. From his periphery, Giyuu spotted Y/N’s head snap toward her mentor, her jaw slack. “Once, priestesses were akin to shamans who offered a variety of rituals for cleansing and protection. You slayers relied on our connection with our communities to operate more effectively, and we in turn, counted on your protection to fight what we could not.”
Despite the distinct scent of sake that clung to the elderly shrine keeper like a cloud, her eyes remained sharp and fixed upon him, and her wrinkled mouth pulled into a rueful smile. “Now, it seems, our wise and benevolent government has forced us both to retreat to the shadows to operate in secret.”
She bowed her head. “You have nothing but my respect, Lord Hashira. You are always welcome here.”
Giyuu did not respond, but he inclined his head toward the Priestess in polite acknowledgement.
Y/N gaped at her Master. "Lord --?"
The old woman poured another generous serving of sake and brought the choko to her lips. “Though we are honored by your visit, young Lord, I’m afraid your presence is nothing more than a calculated effort by this one,” she nodded pointedly at the young shrine maiden at his side, whose cheeks pinkened. “To keep herself out of trouble. My apprentice was not permitted to leave the grounds, you see.”
“Oh hush you old drunk,” Giyuu’s eyes snapped to the irate Miko in surprise. “I told you earlier I was going to the village market –”
“Telling me while I am in the middle of lessons with the younger girls and sprinting off before I can respond is hardly me giving you permission,” the Priestess’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You’ve defied me for the last time, girl.”
The old Priestess turned away from her apprentice, dismissive. “You will take the rice bundles and hang them in the drying shed – every last one, for the next three days.”
“You hag!” Y/N fumed, her face pinched in outrage. “I was on rice duty all last week without an ounce of assistance –”
“And you apparently have yet to learn your lesson,” the old woman retorted bitterly, shooting the seething Shrine Maiden a withering glare. “Considering you still think it seemly to mouth off at any and every opportunity –”
The Miko spat a curse at the elder Priestess so filthy and colorful that even Giyuu could not mask his surprise, raising his eyebrow. But if Y/N’s outburst shocked the Shrine’s head, the old woman gave no sign. Instead, she only glowered at the young woman as the latter turned and shoved the shoji door harshly to the side. Giyuu, ever the unwilling observer, was left to be pulled by his wrist back into the hall behind the young Miko before she whipped around to face her senior once more.
Giyuu had thought himself stunned by the crassness of the Shrine Miaden’s language before, but nothing prepared him for the sight of the obscene gesture she made at the old woman before she slammed the door firmly shut.
A telling crash on the other side of the wall signaled the Elder Priestess had hurled her empty sake dish at the door with all her might. “And work on your aim!” Y/N snapped before turning sharply on her heel to stomp out of the honden, tugging the Water Pillar helplessly behind her.
“She seems unstable.” said Giyuu once they were a safe distance away from the main Honden.
Y/N brushed aside his concern with a flippant waive of her hand. “Granny is harmless. As her charge, I suppose I instigate her nearly as much as she torments me.”
Granny. It made sense, then, the curious affection the girl held for the rancorous head Priestess, even if he could not bring himself to fully understand it.
“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” the Miko’s mood lightened considerably the more she put distance between herself and the drunken head Priestess. “We serve breakfast at sunrise, but of course, you’re not obligated to attend.”
The ravenette’s mouth quirked down in a faint grimace, the only sign of his discomfort. “I should return to my own home.”
“It’s quite late,” Y/N glanced up at the night sky, now awash with stars that surrounded the fat, glowing moon like thousands of glittering jewels. She turned back to him with a radiant grin. “At least allow me to show you around.”
—
If anyone had asked him, Giyuu Tomioka would not have been able to explain the series of events that had led him here.
He distinctly remembered telling the vexatious young Shrine Maiden no, that he could not stay the night, yet somehow he’d found himself in the Shrine’s old, musty guest house, already prepared for his stay, a lantern flickering merrily in the corner.
He glanced warily at the fresh sleeping kimono folded beside his futon. The possibility of him actually sleeping in such an unfamiliar place was nil and while the Water Pillar certainly had no issue in appearing impolite to others, he thought that perhaps the Shrine was affiliated with the connection of Wisteria Houses dotted throughout the land, and he didn’t want to risk offending the head Priestess and cause her to shut her gates to other slayers in need of lodging.
So, Giyuu paced the floor of the small guest house, restless. Though his eyes remained carefully trained on the window of his room, waiting for the slightest hint of movement that would give him an excuse to leave without offending his hosts, no sign of either his crow or any demonic threat manifested. Though, he supposed with a frown, it shouldn’t surprise him that he’d not heard from Kanzaburo; the ancient bird was likely flitting about the forest, lost.
He continued to pace until finally, the sky in the East began to lighten signaling that dawn was fast approaching. Stealthily, he slipped out of the small hut that had served as his temporary accommodations and made his way toward the Torii under which he and that Miko — Y/N — had passed upon their arrival.
He’d almost cleared the gate when he saw the elder Priestess standing beside the Torii, apparently waiting for him. Giyuu nodded his head at her, the only expression of courtesy he was willing to give, but he was halted as the old woman flung out a single arm in front of him, her hand flat and palm turned up, waiting.
And that was how Giyuu learned the Shrine was not, in fact, a Wisteria House; not as he was forced to fork over a considerable sum of his earnings into the Priestess’s expectant hand.
Wisteria Houses meant Corps Members stayed free of charge; the price the Shrine’s keeper demanded in exchange for his brief stay bordered extortion.
At least he’d had the money; if he’d been of any lower rank, the old woman would have cleaned him out.
He scowled as he departed but his irritation quickly fell away as he finally laid eyes on Kanzaburo, who nearly collided with his Master’s head as he struggled to pant out his orders.
And so, as the Water Pillar trekked through the forest and toward his new assignment, the view of the Shrine faded behind the dense canopy of the mountain forest, and so too, did any final, sparing thoughts of it, or its inhabitants.
———-
Nearly a month passed since Giyuu stumbled across the strange shrine maiden in the forest separating his Estate from the old Shrine, and the Miko had nearly faded from his memory. Not that such a feat was difficult; the raven-haired Pillar’s mind was far more occupied with tasks like patrol and chasing down leads that could potentially lead the Corps to an Upper Rank demon to focus on much else.
He’d intended only to find a decent meal and then depart the village before nightfall to investigate rumors of women disappearing in a small town to the south. Night was rapidly approaching, however, and he’d yet to find any vendor that sold anything he liked, much to his chagrin. He was about to cut his losses and continue on, when he spied a familiar blur of white and red idly perusing one of the stalls, apparently oblivious to the impending sunset.
Without thought, his feet carried him toward her, his annoyance sparking to life.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The Miko’s – Y/N’s – head turned back and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Pillar standing behind her.
“Tomioka-sama,” she greeted with a polite bow. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”
He ignored her greeting, choosing instead to take a step closer. “I asked what you were doing.”
If she was taken aback by his terseness, she didn’t show it. “I am returning to my shrine after an afternoon of errands,” she replied smoothly. “As is usual for me.”
“It is nearly dark.”
“An astute observation,” and to his annoyance, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye. “Do you also know that tonight is also a full moon?”
Said moon had already made an appearance above them, growing brighter and brighter as the sky faded from twilight to night.
Giyuu had never been one for rolling his eyes, but the young woman’s knowing smirk grated at something inside him, made him feel as he often did whenever Kocho would make a sly comment with that smile of hers, that for some reason made him feel like he was the butt of some joke only she knew.
He grimaced. Teasing; that’s what the shrine maiden was doing. She was teasing him.
“It is nearly dark,” he repeated. “And I did not think you’d be naive enough to risk traveling after sunset.”
“I believe it was you who insisted I did not have to ignore my duties, so long as I paid attention to my surroundings.” She replied coolly. “So that is exactly what I am doing.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fine. If the stubborn girl wanted to be bait for whatever awaited her in the forest once the sun finally set, then that was her choice. He’d saved her once, and he’d given her sufficient warning; what she did from then on did not concern him.
He was about to bade her farewell when a slurred, boisterous voice boomed her name from across the market. Several heads turned toward the source, including Giyuu's, until he found a round faced, piggish man stumbling away from a sake stand, his cheeks flushed a bright red.
The man repeated the Miko's name in that grating, sing-song voice of his. "Whe're you goin' all by yourself so late?"
He didn't know what possessed him to ask, but Tomioka turned to the shrine maiden. "A friend?"
“His name is Susumo,” she said airily, though she could not conceal her scowl as the man drew closer. “He’s merely the village drunk who forgets to keep his hands to himself.”
The shrine maiden’s eyes narrowed accusingly at the villager, and the Miko remarked, in a raised voice, “And he is not welcome at the Shrine, though he pretends to forget otherwise.”
Susumo only held his hands up, as though in surrender. “You can’t blame a man for wanting to know what lies under all those layers,” and as if the implication of his lechery wasn’t clear enough, he gave the Miko a leering once-over. “Can’t say I was disappointed.”
“But your friend is right,” he slurred, a smirk forming on his lips. “The dark is too dangerous for a pretty thing like you to risk walking back alone —“
“I shall escort her,” Tomioka said abruptly and she whipped back to him, her mouth falling open. “After all, I’m welcome at the Shrine.”
Susumo, too, gaped at the Swordsman. The Miko recovered quickly however, unwilling to allow the opportunity to pass or for the Slayer to suddenly come to his senses and realize he’d rather leave her to fend for herself in the forest.
“You have my gratitude, Tomioka-sama,” and she gave him a small bow of her head. Relieved, she flipped her braid over her shoulder and smiled warmly up at her raven-haired companion. “Shall we?”
She did not wait for Tomioka to answer, nor did she give any further acknowledgment to Susumo, who only continued to stare at the Hashira, his face bright red. With a feigned indifference, she breezed past him, but a sudden yelp from behind caused her to snap back in alarm.
The first thing she noticed was the proximity of the back of a dual-patterned haori as it stood between her and the village drunkard. The Water Pillar’s shroud nearly brushed the tip of her nose, forcing her to step back. Cautiously, she peered around Tomioka’s rigid form, and her eyes widened at the sight before her.
Susumo, it appeared, had tried to grab her, only to be cut off by the Water Pillar himself, who snatched him by his wrist. Though it did not appear that Tomioka was using a great deal of effort to restrain him, it was clear Susumo was struggling — greatly so — against the ferocity of the Slayer’s hold, given how a vein bulged in his forehead, his face, rapidly turning purple.
Her gaze flicked to the Swordsman’s hand, and she felt herself blanch at the odd angle of Susumo’s wrist.
She was no doctor, but she knew wrists weren’t meant to twist as his did in Tomioka’s crushing grip.
“Leave.” the Water Pillar ordered coldly, and there was a darkness in his eyes that matched the brutality of his hold. “Your presence is unnecessary and unwanted.”
“Y-you! Susumo sputtered.
But Tomioka’s grip only tightened. “Now.”
And then he released him, Susumo half-stumbling back from the Swordsman. His eyes were wide with both fear and loathing, and he muttered incoherently under his breath as he massaged his rapidly-swelling wrist.
The Water Pillar, however, did not pay any more attention to the red-faced villager. He turned only to the shrine maiden, who remained frozen in place, her eyes wide. "Shall we?"
Numbly, Y/N nodded and the two set off down the path that led back to the Shrine. Dimly, the Miko noted that the Slayer kept noticeably close to her as they walked, as though he was unwilling to let her wander too far away. The air between them as they traveled was thick and tense. She was on edge enough thanks to Susumo and his oily words, and she was desperate to do anything to distract herself from the buzzing mounting under her skin.
She cast a sly, sidelong glance at the Swordsman walking at her side. He’d not been receptive to her small-talk the last time he’d escorted her back to her Shrine, but saying something — anything — would be better than this stifling quiet threatening to choke her.
“How old are you?” Before the Swordsman could decide whether to answer, she continued on. “If I had to guess, I would suspect you’re around my age, and I just passed my nineteenth birthday.”
She hummed aloud. “You seem quite young, yet you’ve achieved some level of status as a swordsman, according to Granny.” Her eyes fell to the blade secured at his hip before she lifted them back to his profile. “Yet you’re as withdrawn and taciturn as an old man.”
Her words, thankfully, seemed to irritate him into responding. “Are you always so forthright?”
The Miko grinned. “Perhaps I am like you, Lord – what was it? Hashiba?”
“Hashira.”
“Yes, that. Perhaps I am like you, Lord Hashira – utterly lacking in social ability.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she brushed her shoulder against his bicep. “But at least I make up for it by talking.”
“Talking is a distraction,” Tomioka monotoned, his eyes fixed resolutely on the hidden path of the forest before them. “It only serves as an interference to one’s duties.” He looked pointedly at the Miko’s profile, but inexplicably found himself unable to look away. “Or an excuse to ignore them.”
But she was unflappable. “And yet you are the one who decided to escort me all the way back to my Shrine – so who is the one ignoring their duties, Tomioka-sama?”
“I think you enjoy diverting my attention,” the Water Pillar retorted, though Y/N could see the rising annoyance in his eyes.
She felt his gaze bear into her as she flipped her loose hair behind her shoulder. “It’s not possible to distract someone unless they find the diversion in question captivating, Tomioka-sama.”
The Water Pillar almost looked amused. “And you are certainly that, Y/N.”
The Miko ducked her head to avoid that piercing gaze, so that the ravenette would not see the faint rosy blush creeping across her cheeks. “I did not think you had the constitution for teasing, Lord Hashira.”
Tomioka looked at her fully then, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do not jest.” He hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he scrutinized her. “Nor do I lie.”
Y/N’s lips parted. There was something about the way the Swordsman beheld her that made her stomach flutter. In her last encounter with the enigmatic Slayer, she’d been so rattled by her close encounter with the demon, that she hadn’t truly noticed much about the man who’d saved her life, apart from his bland detachment and rather unfortunate social skills.
But now, the Miko was struck by how handsome the raven-haired Hashira was; she was mesmerized by the deep azure of his eyes, as vast and deep as the sea. His skin was a delicate alabaster, and, contrasted with the flesh of his hands which were calloused and scarred, his face had not a blemish in sight.
She blinked, clearing away some of the fog that had crept into her mind, put there by the vexatious Slayer. “I must return to my duties,” she said softly.
They spent the remainder of their journey back to the Shrine in silence. She was quick to break away from him the moment they passed under the Torii, though not before she muttered that he was welcome to stay, should he so choose.
She busied herself with her duties, but even the neediest obligations could not fully distract her from feeling the burning heat of his stare as the Water Pillar’s watched her fiercely from across the courtyard. And nothing, nothing at all could have prepared her for how he eventually joined her in carrying out her duties,
The Water Pillar stayed the night once more, departing sharply at daybreak. Later, as Y/N swept the courtyard free of loose brush and clutter long after his departure, she noticed a crow sitting high in a tree, its black eyes watching her every movement. Though its gaze was sharp, the presence of the great, sleek bird did not disturb her, though not as much of a feather twitched from its perch upon the branch as the Miko continued through her day.
As she’d readied for bed later that night, she realized she’d felt oddly comforted by the crow. She imagined it a silent protector, a new guardian of the Shrine, no different than the statues of the gods which dotted its grounds.
She settled into her futon with a great yawn, the image of a certain dark-haired Swordsman flickering in the back of her conscience until she was swept into sleep’s sweet embrace.
Just outside the Shrine’s sleeping quarters, the bird remained, eyes carefully tracking every shift in the shadows, waiting.
And then the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, and the threat of night receded once more.
But the crow remained.
———
Spring, 1915
The crow became a permanent fixture at the Shrine, though it always seemed to keep strictly to a single tree at the edge of the property, one that gave it a full view of the courtyard and structures surrounding the main honden.
Despite the bird's constant presence, more than a month passed before the Water Pillar returned, though he'd seemed even more sullen and withdrawn than he'd been during their previous two encounters. Y/N did not consider herself a friend to Tomioka by any means, but she was the only one brave enough to approach him as he'd lingered by the Torii, apparently unsure whether he should seek out their hospitality or return to the forest.
"You are welcome to come and sit for a hot meal," she called cordially, though she maintained a tentative distance. She frowned when he did not respond. Instead, the Water Pillar continued to stare unseeingly at the cracked stone path leading to the Shrine's courtyard.
"Tomioka-sama?" She pressed gently and the Swordsman's attention finally snapped to her, as though he'd just become aware of her presence.
The haunted look in his eyes sent a chill up her spine. The Miko cast one, cautious glance up at the sky, and her eyes narrowed at the wall of black clouds steadily rolling in from the east. A shift in the wind brought forth the distinct, metallic scent of rain, and if she listened hard enough, she swore she could hear the distant rumbles of thunder. “You know, there will be a storm tonight — please consider waiting it out here, where it’s safe.”
Tomioka only stared at her for a moment before he nodded. His hand twitched into a vague gesture inviting her to lead the way, and Y/N escorted him to the Shrine's elder, in search of her permission.
Granny Priestess agreed to let him stay, but on the condition he paid for his imposition. The Water Pillar had silently agreed, producing one small money bag from his pocket and placing it squarely in the Priestess’s outstretched, waiting hand.
The heft of the bag had made Y/N frown; it seemed a great sum in comparison to their meager lodging offerings, but the Swordsman did not object, so she held her tongue. To comment would only serve to irritate her Master, and the old hag was scornful enough to assign her to duties that would isolate her from the raven-haired Slayer.
Only after the old Priestess sauntered off, leaving behind nothing but the lingering, bitter stench of sake, did the Miko speak again.
“I’m glad to see you in good health, Tomioka-sama,” she bowed, though she thought she spied the corner of his mouth twitch down at her formal greeting. “I trust your patrol went smoothly?”
The Water Pillar’s expression was tight; dark. “It did not. The demon I was tracking managed to get away.” His jaw clenched tight. “But not before it slaughtered an entire family in the mountains.”
All at once, the world around her seemed to slow. It had been easy to assume the dark-haired Swordsman before her always managed to find his target just in time, before it could slaughter its victim. Now, as she beheld the lethal coldness that had settled over his features, Y/N knew her assumptions had been wrong.
Perhaps, she noted with a shudder, her rescue had been the exception and not the rule.
Beneath the icy stoicism limning the Water Pillar’s eyes, the shrine maiden noted a distinct heaviness that weighed down his shoulders; made them curl slightly forward, defeated.
She resisted the urge to reach out to him, in comfort. “I won’t offer you empty platitudes,” she murmured. “But I can invite you to offer your prayers for those who were lost.”
He looked at her, brows drawn, and she knew his instinct was to decline, so she added, “I will do it regardless of whether you join me.”
All at once, any protest he had was snuffed out within him. Instead, he was left with a curious softness as he regarded the shrine maiden, so assured and earnest in her invitation.
He didn’t know why he’d sought out the Shrine.
He’s been angry; angry at himself for not being faster, for allowing innocent people to die on his account of his failure.
He still felt angry. Yet, as he followed Y/N into the Shrine’s haiden to light incense, he also felt a solemn gratitude for the Miko, who’d not let him indulge in his self-loathing but instead requested he act, and act with her.
So he had; and somehow, the weight on his chest, the one that threatened to suffocate him, lightened bit by bit until Giyuu felt like he could breathe once more.
Later that night, Giyuu spotted the shrine maiden from his window as she darted around the courtyard to light the tōrō to illuminate the Shrine grounds. A deep rumble of thunder, however, signaled the spring storm had finally arrived. Y/N, however, only continued with her task, huddling over herself to strike the matches needed to finish lighting the lanterns as rain began to dampen the landscape around her.
He was about to go outside and demand she return to the warm, dry haven that was the girls’ sleeping quarters lest she catch a cold, but then the last of the lanterns were lit and the shrine maiden straightened.
And then she tilted her face up toward the sky, allowing the rain to wash over her.
And she grinned. And Giyuu was mesmerized; so much so, that he had not stopped staring at where she’d stood, laughing in the rain, even long after the Miko retired to bed.
-
Y/N awoke well before sunrise the following morning and spent hours laboring over the hot stoves in the kitchen. By the time the sky finally lightened, she'd only just finished her task and was in the process of boxing up her creation when she spotted one of her fellow shrine maidens passing by the entryway.
The Miko called out her name. "Has Lord Tomioka awoken yet?"
Her sister trainee lingered in the doorway. "Oh yes, he's been up for a while," and the girl looked back over her shoulder. “But he is already on his way out —“
The Miko swore viciously under her breath as she slammed a lid atop the small bento and hastily wrapped it in the small cloth she’d swiped from the laundry.
“Move,” she barked at a small group of trainees that had gathered in the hallway outside the kitchen. The girls flattened themselves against the wall as Y/N sped by. She hurtled up the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste. Just as she burst into the courtyard from the honden, panting and winded, she spotted him.
“Tomioka-sama!” Y/N called, hurrying after the retreating form of the Water Pillar before he could pass through the shrine gates. “I have something for you!”
The raven-haired slayer turned back to her, his face neutral, though Y/N could tell, by the slightest raise of his brow, that she’d piqued his interest.
“Thank goodness you hadn’t left yet,” the Miko said brightly, holding out a small bundle wrapped in furoshiki cloth. “I was worried this wouldn’t be ready before you did.”
Tomioka’s eyes dropped to the parcel in her hands. “What is it?”
Y/N motioned for him to take it, and to her slight surprise he did, holding it slightly in front of him as though it were liable to burst open. “A meal for the road. Granny and I prepared it this morning — as thanks, for everything you’ve done.”
But the Water Pillar was already shaking his head, trying to press the package back into the shrine maiden’s hands. “I need no thanks; I do my job, and your shrine happens to be part of it.”
If his words disappointed her, Y/N did not show it. “And yet we are grateful all the same,” she said firmly, arms crossing in front of her chest to avoid taking the small bento back. “Besides, it’s salmon; it will only go bad if you don’t eat it.”
Had she not been watching him, Y/N would have missed the slight widening of his eyes, or the way his hand twitched back towards himself, bringing the packed lunch closer to him.
Cerulean eyes watched her for a long moment, before dropping as Tomioka tucked the bento into his pocket.
“Thank you,” was all he said before he turned away and continued through the gates of the shrine, setting off on the path which would lead him through the forest.
If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn the Water Pillar looked happy as he departed.
———
The Slayer returned exactly one week after she’d given him the home-cooked salmon – but he did not return empty-handed. For there, wrapped in the same furoshiki cloth, was a strange, oblong object, sitting in the palm of his hand though if he thought it heavy, Tomioka gave no indication.
“What’s this?” Y/N leaned curiously over the Pillar’s outstretched hand and squinted, trying to discern what the cloth could have been concealing.
Tomioka pushed his hand toward her, beseeching her to take the parcel from him. “A knife.”
The Shrine Maiden looked up at him in alarm, pulling away from the Water Pillar. “Why on earth would I need a knife?”
He rolled his eyes. “Protection.”
“From what?” The Miko wrinkled her nose down at his offering, though there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “As I recall, I walloped you just fine with my broom.”
Tomioka shot her a dull look. “Be that as it may, cleaning tools are useless against demons. Without the sun, the only thing that works against them is decapitation with this — its metal is unique.”
He parted the folds of the cloth to reveal a simple blade, though Y/N found it daunting all the same. The hilt was basic, an unembellished metal handle wrapped in plain black leather. The blade itself was an unassuming silver, slightly longer than her hand.
The Slayer motioned for her to take it, though she only shrunk away. “You know how to use one, yes?”
The Miko’s eyes met his, wide and anxious. “For domestic uses, of course, but not –”
Tomioka’s fingers closed around her wrist and lifted, guiding her hand toward the dagger. His hand moved to cover hers, wrapping them both around the hilt of the blade before squeezing. “Grip it like this,” he held their joined hands up for her to inspect. “Keep your hand in a fist; do not lift your fingers away from the grip – that’s the best way to injure yourself instead of your target.”
But the shrine maiden could hardly focus on the Pillar’s instructions. Her attention was directed entirely at the way her hand was swallowed by his, his skin warm and his grasp firm. She studied how his calluses – thick and forged from years of brutal sword training – pressed against hers; how, despite the roughness of his fingers and palms, and his solid hold still remained gentle.
“-- and thrust like this,” he remained oblivious to her distraction as moved her arm in a sharp jab, a second and then a third time, before dropping her hand. “Now do it yourself.”
His command startled her out of her trance, a heat creeping up her neck from beneath the collar of her kosode. She held out the blade awkwardly before her as scrambled to recall the Water Pillar’s words. To her dismay, all she was able to conjure was the memory of his touch, and how cold she suddenly felt without it.
Lamely, she mimed jutting the knife at an invisible enemy, the blade gracelessly wobbling through the air. Though she was by no means a swordsman, even she knew something was off, her movements disjointed and clumsy.
She glanced shyly back to the raven-haired Demon Slayer and deflated as she was met only with bemused resignation.
Tomioka shook his head in disdain. “Perhaps you would fare better with a broom.”
The Miko bristled. “I am not a swordsman —“
“You’ve made that abundantly apparent.”
“— and I do not have the basics you seem to take for granted.” She finished, glaring indignantly at her raven-haired companion. “So teach me.”
The Water Pillar considered her for a moment before he gave her the slightest, almost imperceptible nod of his head.
“Watch me.” He turned his body toward the Miko and mimed getting into a defensive stance — feet ajar, his weight evenly distributed on each leg, and bent.
He looked back to the Shrine Maiden expectantly, and she parroted his movements, crouching into what she imagined was the perfect mirror of his position.
It wasn’t.
“No — you need to—“ Tomioka straightened and huffed, impatient. He moved quickly behind her, and without thinking, his hands shot to grip her hips to guide them into the proper stance, until her weight was evenly distributed on both feet.
“Like that — now bend your knees.” The ravenette pushed down on her hips until her legs bent, apparently oblivious to the way the Miko flushed crimson.
He was close; far, far too close. She’d never been touched the way the Water Pillar touched her. Tomioka’s hands were twin brands, burning her skin even through the layers of her shrine attire, and it sent every nerve beneath her skin buzzing.
She was aware of every inch of him pressed against her; of his arms, caging her in, his hands twin brands against her hips as he turned and pulled her into the proper stance. She was aware of how warm he was, of how formidable his presence felt, even though to her, he posed no threat. Every movement of his was precise and fluid, like the water he’d claimed to style his techniques after.
And if his touch wasn’t distracting enough, his scent threatened to overwhelm every last bit of sense she’d clung onto. Y/N didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed how good he smelled — like mahogany and citrus — so rich and so warm; a stark contrast to his otherwise cold and aloof nature mask.
The swordsman, however, appeared to remain oblivious. “There,” he finally said, having satisfied that she’d achieved proper form. For moment, the two of them lingered there, with Tomioka’s chest against the shrine maiden’s back, his hands remaining steady in place on her hips. It was as though they’d frozen: Y/N, out of a mixture of shock and red-cheeked embarrassment, and Tomioka out of utter cluelessness.
Another beat passed before the Water Pillar finally realized the compromising nature of their position. His hands dropped quickly from her hips, and there was a rush of air at Y/N’s back as he swiftly stepped away, putting distance between them once more.
The raven-haired Slayer gruffly cleared his throat. “You should also keep wisteria on you.” And Y/N gulped down her embarrassment to turn back toward him.
Tomioka kept his face neutral and cool, but the tips of his ears had turned pink. “Check your perfumes for it or ask one of the other shrine girls if you can borrow theirs – oil would be better. More concentrated”
Any residual awkwardness that may have lingered fell quickly away. The Miko only stared blankly at him, her head tilted slightly to the side as her eyebrows pinched together. “Perfume?”
Tomioka blinked. “Yes. As all women have.”
It was an effort to fight off the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “Exactly how many women do you know, Tomioka-sama? Such that you would know their perfumery habits, that is.”
His mouth thinned into a firm line. “Enough.”
And though Y/N supposed he’d meant to sound self-assured and confident, the Slayer was betrayed by the slight doubt in his voice, as though he’d been questioning his own answer.
The shrine maiden only continued to look at him, her eyebrow slightly raised, amused. The longer the silence stretched between them,the more awkward the ravenette grew, his discomfort plain from the way he shifted under her stare.
“You seem like someone who would use it.” He finally offered, after another moment of quiet.
It was her turn to blink, taken aback. Her smirk quickly slid from her face and with a grimace, she felt her right eye twitch, ever so slightly. “Apologies, then, for disappointing you.”
Tomioka frowned and he made like he was going to respond, but the Miko squared her shoulders and stalked briskly past him.
“I must return to my duties, and I’m sure you need to do the same,” she paused in the doorway of the garden hut and cast one, sidelong glance back to where he stood, clueless. “Until next time, Tomioka-sama. Thank you for the blade.”
With that, the Miko paced briskly away from the garden hut, her spine stiff. The Water Pillar remained in place for a moment, stupefied, before he collected himself once more, before setting off back toward the forest; to his Manor.
And as Giyuu retreated through the rusting Torii gate, he could not quite shake the distinct impression he’d done something wrong, though he knew not what.
–
The Water Pillar returned the following week, though to a decidedly cooler greeting than that which he’d steadily grown accustomed to receiving.
That wasn’t entirely true — the majority of the Shrine’s residents had welcomed him warmly, their kindness always far more than he thought he deserved. Only one hadn’t greeted him as enthusiastically as the others, and to his annoyance, that one was the only person whose opinion of him mattered, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why.
She hardly stopped to acknowledge his arrival, only gracing him with a brisk nod, though she’d refused to meet his eyes. Bemused, Giyuu followed her across the courtyard as she made her way to the Shrine’s small storeroom. He leaned against the doorway and watched as the Miko began pulling jars of dried herbs from the rickety shelves lining the walls and stacked them on a sizeable work counter that cut halfway across the room. All the while, she continued pointedly ignoring him, humming lightly under her breath as though she could not see or hear him as he shifted against the doorframe, waiting.
Her obstinate silence grated at him. “May I assist you?”
“No, no, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” She turned away to browse the shelves once more, before finding what she needed: a stone mortar and pestle.
The grinder settled against the wooden counter with a heavy thud and the shrine maiden snatched up one of the jars she’d stacked and dumped its contents into the bowl, followed by another bottle of herbs. Pestle in hand, she set to work grinding the leaves together, mixing in a vial of fragrant oil she’d kept in her pocket to create a thick paste.
Giyuu watched her quietly as she worked. “You’re…” he frowned. “You’re behaving strangely.”
Y/N glanced up at him. “In what way?”
“You’re trying to avoid me.”
“Am I?” She straightened, rolling her shoulders. “Only because I’ve not yet bathed today. I didn’t want to risk offending you with my stench.”
Giyuu paused. “Why would that matter?”
“You made sure to point out you thought I needed perfume during your last visit.”
He pushed off the doorframe, eyebrows knit together. “For protection.”
The shrine maiden rolled her eyes. “Yes, and apparently, because you believe I am the type to need it.” When Giyuu only continued to stare at her with that same, mildly lost expression, Y/N groaned, exasperated. “You implied I stink.”
The Water Pillar’s jaw slackened as he gaped at her. “That is not –”
“It is what you implied,” she repeated, turning away from him to focus on her task of grinding herbs, though the force with which she ground the pestle was perhaps greater than necessary.
Giyuu rounded the small countertop of the Shrine’s storeroom to face her head-on. “I like how you smell.” He insisted. “It’s nice.”
The Miko’s irritated churning of the stone paused and her eyes finally lifted to his. For a long moment, she watched him, head slightly cocked.
“You are very odd, Tomioka-sama.”
But she said it with a small smile that he almost wanted to return.
Before long, things between them returned to normal once more, with the Miko directing him to collect her gathering basket from where she’d left it in the Shrine’s infirmary and bring it to her. Once he returned, he helped her grind charcoal to make incense sticks as she chatted happily away.
Surprisingly, Giyuu found himself not only engaged in her musings about daily life at the Shrine, but offering her small personal anecdotes of his own, though he was not nearly as proficient as she when it came to story-telling.
Once the sun began setting once more, and he received no new orders from Headquarters, he simply sought out the Shrine’s head Priestess and silently passed her a small money bag.
And then Giyuu retired to the guest’s quarters for the night.
—--
As spring warmed into summer, the Water Pillar began making bi-weekly visits to the Shrine that quickly melted into habit; expectation. Once a fortnight, a thrill would settle over the young maidens in anticipation of the arrival of the stoic yet handsome Slayer, with girls of all ages eagerly looking toward the Shrine gates in hopes of spying him the moment he crossed beneath the Torii. The elder employees of the Shrine had learned to time Tomioka’s arrival by listening for their excited gasps, exhaled as a collective as brooms and rices sacks were dropped where their handlers stood, the girls far too interested in rushing to greet the exalted Slayer than they were in completing their tasks.
“I do not see the reason for such excitement,” she sniffed, though even she wasn’t stupid enough to think her fellow trainees bought her bluff. “He is only a swordsman.”
“A handsome one,” a wispy trainee named Miyoko sighed dreamily. “And no doubt strong and capable.”
The group of maidens dissolved into another fit of giggles, concealing their blushes behind their hands.
“His face is attractive, but his hair is odd,” another commented. “It looks like he’s hacked at it with his own blade.”
“Oh, who cares about his hair? I’m far more interested in what’s beneath that uniform —“
“Enough,” Y/N snapped. While her friendship with the Water Pillar was tenuous at best, the suggestive way her sisters-in-training spoke of him left her feeling decidedly discomforted.
Though, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she, too, wondered whether Tomioka’s strength was the product of a finely-hewn tuned physique. But she wasn’t, so she bottled that thought up and tucked it tightly away, where it belonged.
Slowly, her cohorts all turned to look at her.
“You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister,” Miyoko directed at Y/N, who felt her cheeks heat. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”
“Tomioka-sama always asks where Sister Y/N is, the moment he arrives!” A tiny voice chimed, and Y/N’s eyes slid shut in an effort to fight off a wince. “Sometimes they even do chores by themselves!”
Komatsu. At only ten, she was the Shrine’s youngest trainee, and followed Y/N around like a shadow. Not that the shrine maiden minded all that much; she tended to spoil the girl a bit, when she could. But as pure as the girl’s intentions surely were, she’d yet to lose that childlike earnestness that made her prone to revealing information that Y/N rather remained a secret.
“Alone with a man?” Miyoko repeated, her eyes shining with malicious glee. “How scandalous — even for someone without a family to embarass, dear Y/N.”
“Careful, Miyoko,” she warned softly. “Don’t go speaking on matters of which you know nothing.”
“Or what? What would you do?”
As fond as Y/N was of her sisters-in-training, one did not make it through the Shrine’s rigorous education and training without learning how to trade in the kind of currency young women valued most.
Information; specifically, gossip.
So the shrine maiden only leveled Miyoko’s own smug smirk with one of her own. “Or I shall tell Granny how you spend your afternoons kissing the boys from the village, rather than tending to your lessons.”
The other girls gasped, their stares turning back to the gossiping shrine maiden. She savored how quickly the girl’s prideful grin slipped from her face as the weight of the threat settled.
While Y/N, parentless and thus without anyone to truly care about her propriety, was being primed to take over Granny Priestess’s position overseeing the shrine, her position was unique. She was parentless and thus, without anyone to truly care about her propriety or whatever other ridiculous expectations of modesty that were often attached to other young women her age. In being no one, Y/N was relatively free to do as she pleased, and that freedom almost made up for her lack of belonging.
But the other girls residing at the Shrine were different. Families across the region sent their daughters to the Shrine for training, not only in their cultural practices and arts, but also for education; to become well-rounded women who would then serve to be valuable marriage prospects once they returned home.
Scandal would not affect her; but it would affect someone like Miyoko.
“How do you think your parents would feel, to know their heir was behaving so brazenly in public? Risking her reputation on the marriage market before she’s even entered it?”
Truthfully, she liked Miyoko; had gotten along well with her, in fact. But she would not risk those sacred few moments she spent with the Water Pillar in an effort to keep the peace with another trainee. Not when those few instances she spent in his company were the only times she’d felt connection — true, human connection and belonging.
Her sister-in-training ruefully fell silent, and Y/N savored her victory. Later, when she was left with nothing but the company of her own thoughts, however, the exchange played back in her mind.
In all her posturing, she’d managed to avoid having to answer for Miyoko’s lofty observation.
You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister.
She did; and, to her slight horror, she realized that she had no interest in stopping.
She only wanted more.
–
It was past dawn when Giyuu trudged under the great Torii gate of the Shrine, exhausted and aching.
It had been a long while since a demon was last capable of wounding him, but he’d been blown backward by a delayed attack that hit after he’d beheaded the damn thing. As a result, he’d been sent flying back, slamming through a dilapidated wall of the abandoned hut he’d tracked the creature to, resulting in a sizeable gash to his shoulder.
He grit his teeth in mild annoyance. He would need some treatment of his wounds — not that they were deep by any means, but they were substantial enough that he knew infection could spell trouble for him, should it spread.
Some small, irate voice in his head snidely reminded him he could have just as easily gone to the Butterfly Mansion for treatment — that, in fact, the Insect Pillar’s estate had been much closer to the location of his mission than the Shrine had been. He’d rationed that, as much as he admired and respected Kocho, he was still a bit raw from her mocking about how unliked he truly was among his comrades.
Besides, he groused. Kocho was not the one he really wanted to see, anyway.
He found Y/N in the Shrine’s storeroom, seated upon the floor with a detailed ledger spread out before her as she took inventory of various scrolls and texts.
Giyuu did not bother to announce himself. “You have medical training, do you not?”
The Miko startled, the charcoal stick she’d been using to tally the ledger clattering to the floor. She blinked up at him in surprise. “Tomioka-sama — welcome, it’s been a few weeks — forgive me, I did not see you come in.” She quickly rose to her feet, shutting the store ledger and tucking it under her arm.
Her eyes found the blood-stained shoulder of his hair and widened. “I have some; I can stitch and dress wounds —“
He nodded. “Then I require your assistance.”
—-
Y/N led him to a small office inside the honden that served as the Shrine’s unofficial infirmary. “Take a seat,” she nodded at a small stool that sat under the room’s solitary window, right by a modest working table. “Let me see what we have.”
Tomioka sat upon the stool with his back to her as she busied herself sifting through cupboards in search of supplies. “What sort of wound is it?”
She turned back and nearly dropped a tin of medicinal salve she’d located as she beheld the Water Pillar strip himself of his clothing from the waist up.
There, across his right shoulder blade, she saw it — saw his blood. Quickly, she located thread and a needle and she grabbed a roll of cloth that could double as wrappings and she crossed back across the room.
She spread her bounty out across the table, right beside the neatly folded pile of his clothing. Silently, she set to work cleaning the gash, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that it was little more than a shallow flesh wound.
“Lucky you, this won’t need stitching,” she said lightly as she wiped away the last of the dried blood from the Water Pillar’s skin. “But I shall need to wrap it so it won’t become infected.”
Tomioka only gave her a curt nod. She stepped back to work open her tin of medical salve, and as she warmed the substance in her hands, she let herself fully examine the Swordsman sitting before her. Her eyes trailed over the sculpted planes of his back. It surprised her how muscular he was, given his leanness. Yet, without the layers of his uniform shirt and haori, she could see he was well-built, each muscle defined.
She didn’t know why it surprised her that there was a man beneath the mask of the Slayer, but what a man he was. Her mouth went dry at the thought. It was an effort not to allow her eyes to wander lower; to ponder what he might look like under his uniform pants, stripped and fully bare before her —
“What is that scent?” Tomioka’s sudden question startled her away from her increasingly treacherous thoughts.
She’d never been more grateful to be facing away from him. That way, he could not see the blush coloring her cheeks as she hastily slathered the salve across his wound. “Anti-septic; I know it’s rather stringent, but — ”
The Water Pillar shook his head. “I know what antiseptic smells like. I mean you. The scent you wear.”
She pursed her lips for a moment before she recalled the distinctly floral scent of her cleansing oils. “Sakaki blooms, I suppose.”
“What properties does it have — what are its effects on others?” He pressed. She was surprised at how insistent he seemed, and there was almost an urgency in his tone that unsettled her.
“None, to my knowledge — why do you ask?”
The tips of Tomioka’s ears turned pink and he turned away from her, lips pressed into a firm line. “Forget I said anything.” he muttered after a moment, his shoulders and spine stiff.
Neither one of them spoke again as Y/N finished treating the Water Pillar’s injury and wrapped it.
“You're done,” she said after a moment, tapping him lightly on his other shoulder.
“You have my thanks,” Tomioka quickly refastened the buttons of his uniform shirt as the Miko stepped aside, pointedly wiping her hands clean with a small cloth. She only looked at him once he lifted his haori from where he’d carefully laid it atop the small examination table, but her eyes narrowed as he rose from the stool, shrugging the material back over his shoulders. “I am happy to pay you for the resources you used —“
Y/N did not appear to be listening, not as she leaned forward and pinched the sleeve of his haori between her thumb and index finger.
“You have a tear,” she frowned, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Right here, see?”
There, on the side bearing his sister’s half of his haori, right where his sleeve met his shoulder, was indeed a small hole, the threads around it broken and shifting slightly in the wind.
The Miko’s hand fell away, and she squared her shoulders, mouth set in a firm but determined line. “If you’ll give me a moment, I assure you I can have it repaired in no time –”
“Not necessary,” the Swordsman said abruptly, twisting back from her. “I can figure it out on my own.” He would not part with it, would not so much as let another put their hands on it and risk ruining his most cherished possession.
Y/N only stepped toward him, ignoring his attempt at distance. “There’s no need to be prideful,” she huffed impatiently. “Truly, it would take no effort at all –”
“No.”
“Why are you being so difficult?” She snapped, but her hands continued reaching for him, for his sleeve –
Tomioka snatched her wrist mid-air and held it there, halting her. “No one touches this. Understand?”
Y/N’s lips parted in faint surprise at the Water Pillar’s severity. Her eyes darted to where his fingers were locked tight – uncomfortably tight – around her wrist. When she glanced back at the stone-faced Slayer, she felt a chill lick down her spine. She’d known he could be intimidating against threats, even without saying a word. It was his eyes – his eyes would harden, with the lapiz hue of his irises darkening to something more akin to indigo, as he stared down an opponent. She’d witnessed it the very first night she’d met him.
She just hadn’t thought she would ever be on the receiving end of such a cold glare.
“I understand,” she said softly, and she began flexing her wrist against his grip in an effort to work herself free from his hold. “Please forgive my indiscretion, Tomioka-sama. I overstepped.”
The raven-haired Slayer blinked and quickly let her go, her wrist falling limply back to her side. Just outside the infirmary’s small window, he heard the familiar, urgent cry of a crow.
He’d never been more grateful for a distraction. “I must be on my way.” His tone was stiff; clipped.
“But — you’ve only just arrived —“
“Farewell, Y/N.” Giyuu gave her a curt nod.
Helplessly, the Miko watched as the Water Pillar stalked out of the small office, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He did not so much as spare a glance back, leaving Y/N to wonder whether she would see that odd patterned haori again.
The thought she might not made something cold and heavy sink into her gut.
—-
(One week later)
It wasn’t often that Giyuu Tomioka found himself annoyed, much less angry. He much preferred channeling his existing emotions into slaying demons, allowing them to taste a fraction of the rage and hatred he felt deep within, a vicious fire he so rarely let bubble up to his service.
Until that evening. After the fiasco that was Mount Natagumo and the subsequent chaos at the Master’s mansion as a result of the Kamado boy and his demon sister, Giyuu had finally noticed that the previous day’s trials had resulted in the tear along the shoulder of his haori that he knew could no longer be ignored.
He grit his teeth; the battle against the Lower Moon spider demon had hardly required him to exert any energy — yet the demon’s last ditch attempt to preserve its life had managed to enlarge the small hole in his most prized possession, and the Water Pillar was utterly without the skill to repair it.
So, he’d been forced to sit through the meeting with the Master, the hole in his haori feeling more like a gaping wound that only festered with every passing moment, until finally, finally they’d been dismissed.
Giyuu hadn’t wasted any time departing swiftly from his Master’s estate, though that hadn’t stopped him from catching the tail end of Shinazugawa’s biting remark of how fuckin’ typical it was for him to leave without so much as a farewell to his comrades. He tried not to let the Wind Pillar’s words get to him; but he was unworthy of their company regardless, so he supposed it really didn’t matter what they thought of him. It shouldn’t.
And so, that was how Giyuu found himself padding silently along the cracked, stone pathway which led to the Shrine at the edge of his designated territory, ready to eat crow and ask for assistance from a particular Miko whom he felt certain would not hesitate to remind him of how he’d coolly rejected her help only days earlier.
Hence, his irritation.
So, his movements stiff and his mouth twisted into a firm grimace, Giyuu stalked under the Torii and into the main courtyard of the old Shrine. It was coming upon midday, though there was a thick cover of clouds overhead that threatened that open up at any moment and shower rain across the region. He ignored the respectful bows of the Shrine’s various inhabitants and staff, eyes sweeping over faces in search of her.
He located her near the storehouse, chatting with one of her fellow trainees as the pair worked to clean vegetables. Giyuu trudged over to her, eyes locked unwaveringly on her serene, easy smile, as he tried to ignore the way it made something in his gut clench and churn.
He drew to a stop right before her and her Shrine-sister, the latter looking up at him with wide eyes, her hands stilling over her work as she looked up to the Slayer in awe.
Giyuu cleared his throat but Y/N only continued wiping the dirt from carrots with her cloth.
The ravenette tried again. “I am in need of your assistance.”
Y/N’s comrade nudged her with her elbow, but the Miko only continued to clean, pointedly ignoring them both.
Giyuu pursed his lips. “With my haori. The tear has grown larger —“
“I am busy.” Y/N’s tone was clipped. “Perhaps there are others who might assist you.”
“Please.”
The Shrine Maiden’s hands finally stilled and she lifted her chin to face him. The moment she beheld the pleading sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the hard set of his jaw that betrayed just how desperate he was, her gaze softened.
She sighed. “Very well then,” she rose, brushing her hands free of any residual dirt. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders, determined not to show him how he’d bruised her ego; how he’d frightened her. “Follow me.”
—
The Shrine sat at the base of a great mountain. But, nearly half a kilometer up the winding, twisting path leading up the mountain and carved into its side, was a grassy hilltop that then plateaued into a small overlook that boasted a phenomenal aerial view of the Shrine below.
The summer grass had turned a vibrant shade of emerald, broken up only by dots of tiny white and blue wildflowers that had gathered in small clusters sprinkled throughout the overlook. At the back of the clearing stood an ancient willow tree, its trunk gnarled and knotted with age, its wisps swaying lazily in the wind.
It was her favorite spot; a little ways away from the hustle and bustle of the Shrine, which meant they would have some privacy as she worked. Y/N settled down against the grass and pulled a needle and a spool of thread from her pocket. She turned her face up toward the Water Pillar where he stood over her. “I’ll take that haori, now, if you’ll please.”
Wordlessly, Tomioka carefully slid the garment from his shoulders and handed it to her, though he hesitated in letting go as she took it gingerly into her hands.
It was clearly very important to the Slayer, and perhaps that was why she felt the need to reassure him. “I promise to take care of it.”
He nodded stiffly and let go of the fabric and the Miko quickly set to work repairing its torn shoulder. The Water Pillar lingered awkwardly beside her for a moment longer before he too, sat in the grass next to her, though his back remained straight, his posture rigid.
She glanced at him as her needle wove the haori’s fabric back together. “I suppose this happened because of your occupation?”
It was faint, but the shrine maiden swore she saw his mouth twitch into something reminiscent of a grimace. “Yes.”
“You should be lucky it wasn’t your flesh.”
At that, Tomioka scoffed. “I would not allow such a weakling to get close enough to try.”
“My, I’d not pegged you as the boastful sort, Tomioka-sama.”
“It’s not boasting; I speak only the truth.” He retorted evenly.
The shrine maiden only hummed as she worked. “And what of your family? Do they support your path as a Slayer?”
The Water Pillar turned his head away, his form stiff. For a moment, the Miko feared she would be left to repair his haori in silence, with nothing but the faint whistling of birds to keep her company.
“I have none,” Tomioka’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the wind. “There is no one left to object, even if they wanted to.”
Y/N’s hands paused their work as she thought. “You are alone?”
It would be nice, she supposed, to find another who, like her, belonged to no one; a kindred spirit of sorts.
“I suppose,” Tomioka spoke up after a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. “I have a mentor. But it was he who trained me to join the Corps.”
“I should hope he’s more sober than mine,” Y/N drawled. “And less irritating.”
The Miko’s attention was so fixed on her careful stitching along the hole in his haori, that she didn’t see his faint smile at her words.
——
The Slayer and the shrine maiden continued talking long after she’d finished repairing the tear in his haori. It was only when Tomioka had realized nightfall was a mere hour away that the two reluctantly descended the hillside to return to the Shrine.
“I almost forgot.” The Water Pillar said, halting in front of the honden as Y/N escorted him back to the Shrine’s entrance. He dug into his pockets and pulled something free. “Here. For you.”
The Miko gaped down at the fat red fruit that sat heavily in his palm. “This is -“ she said breathlessly, “A pomegranate!”
He nodded, arm still outstretched towards her as he waited to drop the ruby fruit into her hand.
She shook her head. “No, Tomioka-san, I cannot accept something so expensive-“
“I insist.” The Water Pillar withdrew a small knife and split the fruit in half, staining his hands crimson with the juice that spilled over its soft flesh.
Hesitantly, the young Miko accepted the half he offered her, and thumbed some of the fat, glistening jewels loose. The moment she brought them to her lips, Y/N sighed, contentedly, and for some reason, Giyuu found his cheeks heating as he watched her savor the sweet fruit.
She lazily opened her eyes after swallowing her first mouthful, but she was startled to see the Hashira staring at her, unwaveringly, and she realized he’d moved closer towards her than he had been only seconds earlier.
Tomioka’s azure eyes were fixed hard on her lips, as he leaned in close to her, Y/N flushing as he drew nearer.
Is he going to kiss me? Her traitorous heart thundered at the idea, and it caused her no short amount of grief to know she was uncertain whether she wanted him to do so. As her emotions warred with her logic, the Water Pillar’s gentle fingers cupped under her chin, and his thumb brushed delicately across her lower lip.
“Pomegranate juice,” he said, but Y/N could still feel the warmth of his breath still as his hand lingered under her chin. His eyes were wide as though he, too, could not believe what he’d just done.
“Yes,” she breathed, before she felt her cheeks heat. “I – I mean, thank you.”
The Water Pillar’s gaze dropped to her lips and her stomach twisted violently. All at once, awareness seemed to come crashing down upon him, and he then stepped back, his hand falling from its hold on her face and back to his side.
The shrine maiden remained frozen in place for a heartbeat longer. “Are you certain you’re unable to be our guest tonight?” Her voice was little more than a pitiful squeak.
Her eyes lifted to his and she knew the answer before he spoke it. “I cannot,” and to her surprise, he almost looked as disappointed as she felt, but he added hastily, “But I will be back. Soon.”
“Soon,” she echoed, feeling rather dazed. “Yes. Of course. I — we — look forward to it.”
She was thankful that Tomioka had already turned away from her as he made his way down the long, winding steps that led to the main route out of the forest; that way, he could not see the way her cheeks burned crimson, or how she buried her face in her hands as she cursed her own embarrassment.
—
Giyuu was grateful his back was to the young Miko as he retreated through the Shrine’s gates and back to the path which would lead him home. It meant she could not see as he stared at his thumb – the thumb he’d used to clear away the small bead of pomegranate juice from her lips – or how his eyebrows pinched together. It meant she could not hear his heart as it beat wildly in his chest at the memory of how soft and full her lip had been beneath the pad of his thumb, soft enough that some treacherous part of his brain had urged him to lean in, to see if her lips would feel as good against his –
He shook his head, trying desperately to dispel his wild intrusive thoughts. It was ludicrous; he did not think of the young shrine maiden in that way. Not when she frequently sought to needle him, not when she frustrated him to no end.
His collar suddenly felt tight; his skin, far too hot. His gaze dropped back down to the hand that had touched her, and it clenched.
A pomegranate. It was only a pomegranate; nothing more.
“It was a thank you gift,” Giyuu declared, as though speaking the words out loud gave them more force. “It is nothing more than an expression of gratitude.”
And even his crow, ancient and dull as he was, scoffed at the obviousness of the lie.
——
Late Summer, 1915
Summer blazed hot and humid. But neither the sweltering heat of the sun nor the most arduous missions he took exhausted Giyuu more than the complicated, tangled mess of feelings that had taken root within him. Because with every day that passed, the Miko of the Shrine at the edge of the forest occupied more and more of his mind. And Giyuu did not know what it meant or what he should do about it.
She’d not just repaired his haori or made him salmon; she’d somehow wormed her way into his every waking thought, and to his great confusion, he found himself almost unwilling to think of anything but her.
Admittedly, Giyuu Tomioka did not have the requisite tools in his social arsenal to successfully navigate human interaction. He hadn’t quite known the extent of his ineptitude however, until the Insect Pillar had so cheerfully pointed out that none of his comrades, in fact, liked him. That revelation had made him doubt every interaction he’d had since, made him wonder whether even the lower ranked Slayers viewed him with the same apathy, if not the same outright hostility toward him shared by Shinazugawa and Iguro.
He’d come to doubt them all — except her.
Y/N was different; at the end of each visit to the Shrine, the Water Pillar did not find himself feeling drained or unwanted. He felt lighter; rejuvenated, even. She was a breath of fresh air that Giyuu found more difficult to go without with each passing day.
She still picked at him, but she did so without the malice he’d normally come to expect, even from those he considered friends, like the Kocho. The young Miko had a way of teasing him that did not leave him feeling decidedly othered. Rather, her japes only spurred him to respond with his own, though admittedly, they tended to fall flat.
He’d known, from the moment she’d attempted to bludgeon him with her broom, that there was more to the Miko than met the eye; but he hadn’t imagined he’d find himself as drawn to her as he was, unable to tolerate going more than a handful of weeks without paying her a visit.
And, given the way she’d blushed after he’d thanked her for repairing his haori, perhaps she was drawn to him, too. Perhaps he hoped she was.
But he would have to wait to find out, for his obligations to the Corps had taken him to a village a considerable distance away from his designated territory. He’d been tasked with investigating a series of disappearances of young women in the region, but his orders had come abruptly enough that he’d not been able to spare a visit to the Shrine before he departed.
He was anxious — eager — to return, though not before he took care of the demon likely behind the mystery plaguing the village he now patrolled.
Nightfall was still a little ways off, and so Giyuu found himself wandering the streets to pass the time. He made his way to a sizeable outdoor market, still packed with shoppers oohing and ahhing over vibrant displays of silk, crafted jewelry, and sugary confectioneries.
Idly, he too, joined other patrons in browsing the small vending stands that lined the bustling village streets, though his perusal was disinterested, if not bored. But his eyes snagged on one small bauble displayed on the merchant’s small stand upon a swath of silk. It was small; unassuming. But the carefully crafted decoration was painted in a startling shade of crimson that he found hard to ignore.
The image of a certain Miko flashed through his mind. He couldn’t leave without it. he wouldn’t; not when its paint so perfectly matched the color of Y/N’s hakama trousers.
I spend the year longing for autumn. That was what she’d told him, that day on the hillside after she’d repaired his haori.
He almost smiled to himself. This would be a way for her to enjoy her favorite season even in the scorching heat of summer or the biting cold of winter.
He waited for the merchant to notice his presence, his fingers twisting around the small money sack he kept tucked in his pocket. His eyes flickered back to the small trinket. Idly, Giyuu wondered when he’d begun associating the color red with the shrine maiden and not with the blood he’d always imagined stained his hands.
He continued to stare the merchant down until he finally managed to catch the vendor’s eye, who flinched at the intensity of his unblinking stare.
Giyuu jutted his chin toward the small token. “How much?”
—-
He found the Miko a few mornings later, relaxing on the hillside overlooking the Shrine. She laid amongst the late summer wildflowers that had bloomed, her form framed against the grass with petals of soft blue and bright marigold.
Giyuu wordlessly settled beside her, and he tried to ignore the thunderous beat of his heart against his sternum as she rolled her head toward him to greet him with a sleepy smile. They exchanged pleasantries and settled into a comfortable silence, both content to watch the sun rise higher over the horizon.
Easy; it was so easy for him to sit beside her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“So, you are to take over the Shrine, one day?”
Y/N’s head turned to the Water Pillar in surprise; though he’d grown steadily more talkative over the months since she’d met him, it wasn’t often that he initiated conversation.
She settled back against the cool grass of the hilltop overlooking the Shrine, enjoying the precious few moments of quiet in the early morning before the chaos of the day called her away. “Yes,” though there was a slight uncertainty in her voice. “I’m sure it’s the expectation, after all. I have to repay Granny for her kindness.”
Giyuu frowned. “But is that what you want?”
“What I want is irrelevant,” the Miko folded her arms behind her head and tilted her face up toward the sky. Her eyes tracked the great, fluffy clouds that drifted lazily by, though the Water Pillar suspected she was attempting to avoid having to meet his eye.
“It’s not irrelevant,” he countered. “If nothing else, you should be allowed to consider other possibilities.”
She did not answer him, and the silence between them stretched enough that he thought to drop the subject, not wanting to press her any further.
“I think,” she said in that faraway voice that Giyuu had come to learn meant she was trying to conceal some deeply felt emotion. “I think should like to belong somewhere.” Her eyes shone. “No, that’s not it — I want someone to belong to me, and I to them.
“A husband.” He said flatly.
The Miko shook her head. “I have never belonged to anywhere or to anyone. I’ve no family to call my own - only an old woman who took pity on me as an infant and raised me. I wonder — what must it be like?” She laid back on the grass and closed her eyes. “That is the one thing I would change. I belong nowhere because I’m no one — nobody’s.”
Giyuu frowned. “I don’t think that’s true—“
“It is true,” she insisted, though she said it with such ease and conviction, like it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “I am here for a moment and then I will be gone, and no one will ever know or remember that there once was a shrine maiden named Y/N here. I’ve made peace with that.”
I would, Giyuu wanted to tell her. I would remember and I would tell them all.
“I am nobody as well,” Giyuu admitted quietly after a moment. “And I have no one left to belong to.”
The image of her face, so kind and sad and full of understanding at his words, had stayed with him for the rest of the morning and even as he settled in for a few hours of sleep in the Shrine’s guest wing.
And in his dreams, her face remained a constant.
—
The sky had turned a vivid shade of orange by the time the Water Pillar emerged from his guest lodgings, ready to depart and resume his duties. Y/N had been helping another shrine maiden tote firewood across the courtyard when she heard a quiet call of her name.
She turned and saw the raven-haired Swordsman standing near the great Torii gate.
She looked back to her fellow trainee, who waved her off with a knowing smile, and Y/N brushed her hands clean against her hakama pants before she approached him.
“Leaving so soon?” And she tried to mask her disappointment at the shortness of his visit.
Giyuu nodded. “We’ve been stretched thin, in light of a few…changes to our ranks.”
The Miko nodded grimly. He’d told her that a fellow Hashira had been slain a few months prior, and another had retired following a rather violent battle that had destroyed part of a far off city.
“But I wanted to give you this.”
She glanced down to his outstretched hand, where a small parcel was wrapped in plain furoshiki cloth. Stunned, she took the package from him, her eyes flicking between it and the Water Pillar watching her intently.
Gingerly, she unfolded the bundle and unveiled a long, but fragile metal and wood reed.
A hairpin, she realized with a soft gasp. Y/N could scarcely bring her fingers to run over the exquisitely crafted ridges of the leaves that adorned the top portion of the pin, afraid that even the slightest pressure from her touch would cause the Water Pillar’s precious gift to her to crumble.
I spend the year longing for autumn, she’d told him. She hadn’t thought he’d been particularly interested in listening to her talk; but as Y/N cradled the delicate ornament between her palms, she felt a blush begin to creep across her cheeks.
As her fingers traced across the delicate ridges of a cluster of maple leaves, lacquered in a thick coat of scarlet paint — a perfect match to the hue of her traditional Miko hakama pants — Y/N realized that perhaps Tomioka had been paying more attention to her than she’d realized.
For the Water Pillar had given her a piece of autumn to hold onto year-round.
“Tomioka-san, you do not-“
“Giyuu.” The ravenette interrupted her. “Please, call me by my name; it’s Giyuu.”
Y/N’s mouth closed, but she smiled softly, considering. “Alright. Giyuu — please, you do not need to feel obligated to bring gifts for us — it was only salmon.”
But Giyuu only shook his head. “I don’t bring gifts for everyone; just you.”
Y/N turned scarlet.
“Please, just-“ Giyuu frowned, and Y/N could have sworn she saw the faintest glow of pink coloring the Hashira’s cheeks. “Just take it.”
“Okay,” her voice resembled a mouse’s squeak as she cradled the pin delicately between her hands. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“And it wasn’t just salmon.”
Y/N looked to him in surprise, her head cocked in curiosity. “Pardon?”
Giyuu exhaled harshly through his nose before stepping closer to her. “This is not only because you made salmon.” Her eyes tracked his hand as it rose to grip the front fold of his haori in his fist. “This – this is all I have left of my family.”
“My sister,” he gestured to the red half of his haori. “She died protecting me.” His hand drifted to the green and orange patterned half of the garment. “And this belonged to a dear friend. He also perished protecting me – and others.”
The Miko’s lips parted, understanding and sorrow flooding her eyes. “Tomioka-san — Giyuu — I had no idea —“
“They both died because of demons – because I could not help them. And now this is all I have left to remember them by.” And then he did the unthinkable; he grabbed her hand and pressed it against the checkered portion of his haori, right over his heart. His hand was warm and firm. Gentle, though she could feel his callouses against her knuckles as he held it in place. “So it wasn’t just salmon.” He repeated, and there was a heat in his eyes Y/N had not seen before, one that stoked a fire in her belly. “And you are not just anyone.”
A soft exhale blew past her lips at the sincerity of his words. For the first time in all her nineteen years, she wondered if this was what it meant to mean something to someone.
“Thank you,” she breathed, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed emotion. “I will treasure it.”
She swore she saw a faint blush creep across the Water Pillar’s cheeks, but she brushed it aside as nothing more than the shadows of the sky as twilight darkened the horizon.
Tomioka nodded. “I must get going now; I will see you soon.”
She did not want him to go.
But the shrine maiden concealed the pang she felt in her chest with a breezy smile. “Farewell, Tomio-“
“Giyuu.”
She blushed. “Yes — Giyuu. Until next time.”
—
“I cannot believe he lets the old woman charge him an arm and a leg to stay a single night,” Miyoko said in awe as the pair watched the retreating form of the Water Pillar through the shrine house gates.
The hairpin clutched tightly in her hands suddenly felt like a stone weight. “I’m sure he stays here only for convenience’s sake,” Y/N replied airily, turning sharply away from the egress to the shrine to hide her warming cheeks.
Miyoko snorted. “Hardly. The Demon Slayer Corps has tons of safehouses throughout the country. Corps members get medical treatment, hot meals, and lodging free of charge.” Y/N’s sister-in-training grunted as she heaved a hefty bag of rice flour from the storeroom to the girls’ side, no doubt hauling it out to prepare the evening meal.
“I’ve heard of at least four such houses in this region alone. As a Hashira, Tomioka-sama could go to any one of them and be treated far more kindly than he is here.”
Y/N frowned. “I wonder why, then, he continues to return here so often? Surely our shrine is some distance from his home, given that he stays the night each time.”
Miyoko shot the young shrine maiden a knowing glance. “Perhaps he tolerates the Granny’s abuse because he is fond of the company.”
Y/N only felt her face grow hotter as she ducked down, though she felt Miyoko’s amused stare burn through her back.
—-
The Water Pillar had returned from his intel assignment and promptly journeyed to the Shrine, its inhabitants abuzz as they prepared for the arrival of autumn and the colder months, now only mere weeks away.
He found the shrine maiden of his interest inside the main wing of the manor, back in the kitchen as she prepared herbs to be incorporated into various salves and medications. Y/N smiled brightly at him as he’d sidled up beside her, taking a handful of dried greenery from the bunch next to her and deftly pulling the leaves from the stem and handing them to her.
“Is it your day off?” The Miko gratefully accepted the leaves he’d stripped and dumped them into the rocky mortar to join the others.
Giyuu felt his stomach clench as his fingers brushed against hers. “I have completed my duties for the time being, yes.”
"You're welcome to help me, as long as you do not mind a bit of busy work."
He didn't; of course he didn't. In fact, as he accepted the heavy stone pestle from the Miko and set to work mashing the leaves she handed them into the mortar, Giyuu rather supposed he would do just about anything to remain in the shrine maiden's company, even if that meant assisting her in a task as banal as grinding medicinal herbs. And though the Slayer and the Miko fell into their well-practiced habit of quietly tending to Y/N's duties side by side, there was a notable absence of the bright chatter he'd grown accustomed to hearing during his visits.
The Water Pillar frowned. “You’re quiet.” It was not a question. “There is something on your mind.”
“Is there?” Y/N hummed loftily, her hands continuing to strip leaves from their stems. “Perhaps I am simply focused.”
Giyuu found his eyes wandering to the side to study the Miko’s face more often than usual. Though she maintained a pleasant smile as they worked, he could see that it did not fully reach her eyes. And even her sage expression could not conceal the way the troubled look in her eyes, hands pausing their work as she stared at something behind the walls of the small shrine kitchen.
“Something is bothering you.” Giyuu took the bundle of herbs clutched in her hands and replaced them with his pestle, allowing her to work her frustrations over the paste forming at the bottom of the stone bowl.
She blushed and refocused her gaze, grinding the pestle hard. “Nothing is wrong!” She chirped.
“You are a dreadful liar.”
The Miko replied with an airy laugh that made his throat tighten. “So I’ve been told — often, in fact.”
“There is…trouble in the village,” Y/N said carefully, though she kept her hands busy as she continued to grind herbs into a thick paste. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but it has put many of us on edge. Particularly Granny.”
Giyuu frowned as he handed the shrine maiden another bunch of leaves from her basket. “What sort of trouble?”
She hesitated. “It is petty village drama, nothing more.”
“You won’t give any further details?”
The Water Pillar could not explain it, but he found himself troubled by the way the Shrine Maiden forced a smile and a far too casual shrug of her shoulders. “There are none worth re-hashing.”
He frowned, but he did not press her further, resolving instead to poke around later. Perhaps he would see whether the Shrine’s head Priestess’s tongue was as loose with information as it was with vulgarity once she’d properly indulged in her sake; he’d make certain she was well-stocked in advance.
Giyuu furtively glanced back at the shrine maiden’s profile, in part to see whether he could deduce anything from her expressions, but he found himself instead studying her, puzzling over a change in her appearance he hadn’t noticed before.
Sensing his stare, the Miko turned to him with a light smile that then faltered. “What –?”
“You changed your hair.” It took everything within him not to reach out, to see if her hair would feel as silky in his fingers as it looked shifting softly in the wind. “I’ve never seen it down.”
“Oh!” Her smile turned bashful, a pretty pink dusting spreading across her cheeks. “I wanted to wear my hairpin – see?”
She turned her head, the long curtain of her hair rippling smoothly with the movement. With her back to him, Giyuu could see the pin he’d given her neatly tucked into the long strands of her hair, pinning half of it back. The red of the pin’s maple leaves posed a lovely contrast with the hue of her hair.
Y/N was already quite beautiful, but with her hair partially down, he thought she looked softer; younger. She peeked over her shoulder at him, fingers nervously combing through her tresses. “It’s not practical for every day, of course, but I thought since you’d likely be arriving soon –”
His eyes widened and Giyuu became acutely aware that his heart now thumped wildly in his throat as Y/N choked off with a squeak, apparently realizing what she’d revealed. Though she hurriedly turned back around, Giyuu could see how the tips of her ears burned bright red.
Despite her efforts, her admission hung like a cloud in the air between them. She’d worn it – the hairpin – for him.
Giyuu swallowed thickly. “I like it.” He cleared his throat and turned, allowing his own unruly hair to obscure his face. “On you, that is.”
For once, the Miko had neither a quick remark nor barb to lob back at him. Instead, she only turned back to her task of grinding her herbs, a thick curtain of her hair concealing her face from his sight.
Once she'd finished bottling up her new medicinal salves, Giyuu helped her carry the tins to the Shrine's storage house, directly across the courtyard from its main wing. The shrine maiden remained curiously quiet, even in spite of his own lame attempts to converse with her. He'd finally given up after his dry comment about the weather went ignored. But every so often, he let his eyes wander to her as they returned to the honden, and that nagging feeling returned as he watched her gnaw incessantly at her bottom lip, a faraway look in her eyes.
Giyuu was not a nosy man, but the Miko's clear distraction unsettled him. He was about to pull her aside, to demand she tell him exactly what it was that had chased away the smile he so longed to see when they were approached by Y/N's haughty Master.
“Lord Tomioka,” the head Priestess nodded curtly at him in greeting. “I am glad to have run into you — I am in need of your assistance.”
The old Priestess turned to her young protégée. “Go assist the younger ones; they need to give their offerings before dinner.”
Y/N’s mouth opened to protest but the head Priestess cut her off. “Now.”
To his surprise, the shrine maiden did not argue with her Master, only turning to him to give him a helpless shrug before she began to make her way toward the Shrine’s honden.
The Water Pillar grimaced. He tried to convince himself the pit in his stomach was only because her odd behavior gnawed at him; that he was only curious to learn what it was that troubled her. But as the Miko cast one last, reluctant look over her shoulder at him, Giyuu found that he was as unwilling to watch her go as she was to leave.
If the Shrine’s head priestess noticed his inner anguish, she paid it no mind. “You will accompany me in the kitchen.”
—-
The first thing he noticed was the conspicuous absence of the scent of sake, which he’d grown accustomed to following the Priestess around like a pungent cloud of perfume. He resisted the urge to scowl; he would have to find another way to get the old woman to talk.
Giyuu followed the woman into the small structure that stood adjacent to the honden that served as the Shrine’s kitchen. He watched silently as she pulled a cleaver, large and deadly sharp, free from where it was stored in a cabinet and laid it atop a butcher’s block. The elder stepped outside of the kitchen and returned a moment later, a recently de-feathered and skinned chicken in hand.
“Things around here seem…tense,” Giyuu observed carefully as the old woman slapped the chicken on the counter for preparation.
“Tense is one word for it, I reckon,” she bit, taking up her cleaver. “The world we live in is dark. I should think you would know that better than most.”
The corner of his mouth dipped down. “But even your girls seem unusually subdued; distracted.”
Her eyes flashed to his, piercing and sharp. “You mean Y/N.”
It wasn’t a question.
“She is always restless this time of year,” the old woman sighed. “Though she loves autumn, she despises winter — or, rather, she despises how it reminds her of what she does not have. And winter is well on its way.”
He nodded, recalling what the shrine maiden had revealed to him that day, on the hillside.
“But your observation is correct — that is not all of the reason she is so distracted,” the old Priestess said darkly, and Giyuu was surprised to see how alert and focused the normally soused elder seemed. “A man from the village — Susumo — has been following her. Demanding her.”
Giyyu straightened. “What do you mean by ‘demand?’”
The haggard woman cursed below her breath as she broke down the chicken’s body. “I mean in the way that men often feel entitled to women — especially angry drunks like him.”
Every hair on Giyuu’s body stood straight as the weight of the Priestess’ warning settled.
“I have forbidden her from venturing out in the dark alone,” the Granny continued, harshly wrenching a joint on the fowl.
“She is a Priestess in training; surely that status affords her some protection?” Giyuu’s knuckles turned white where his fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m not sure the shrine is enough to keep him out for much longer. He’s been lingering — and threatening consequences, if I do not agree to hand her over to him for marriage.” The old Priestess grimaced. “Her status does her no good if he burns this place to the ground.”
The old woman set her cleaver next to her with a heavy thud, her frustration palpable. “The girl is of age, and I am not her blood family; there is no one here who can claim authority over her, not like a parent or an elder sibling.” When her eyes lifted to his, Giyuu could see a hint of fear underlying the hard anger in her gaze. “These days, I half-expect to awaken and find that she’s been stolen in the night.”
The Water Pillar felt his jaw clench. It was rare that he felt the burning flush of anger and it was not directed at a demon, but the idea that Y/N was being harassed and threatened by some village drunkard who felt entitled to her, lit something hot in his stomach. For as vexatious and confounding as he found the young Miko to be, no one deserved to be stalked like prey.
Especially her.
“I’ve had a crow stationed here to alert me of any demon attacks for months,” Giyuu began, and the old woman looked to him in surprise. “But I will assign more to keep watch during the day. If there is anything strange afoot, they will tell you.” He paused a moment before adding, “And they will alert me, too.”
The head Priestess laid down her cleaver to look at him, long and hard. “Then she may have a fighting chance yet, Lord Hashira.”
————-
By the time he found Y/N once more, dinner was over and the moon had risen high in the night sky, casting the shrine grounds in its pale, silvery glow.
He’d told her, rather tersely, that he was unable to stay the night, and he tried to ignore how his chest tightened at the crestfallen look that flashed across her face. Despite her tangible disappointment, she insisted on escorting him out of the Shrine, desperate to cling to every second that might be spared to them.
“You are rather quiet tonight,” the Miko observed, walking him to the grand Torii. “More so than usual.” It was an understatement; the Water Pillar had been downright sullen and withdrawn from the moment he’d returned from whatever takes Granny had insisted she help him with.
Rather than give her any explanation, Giyuu halted his step and reached for her wrist, stilling her. “You did not tell me you were being harassed.”
She looked up to the Water Pillar in surprise. “How did you —?”
He released her from his grip in favor of drawing closer to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Y/N opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find her words. “I suppose,” she began, but her mouth quirked down in a frown. “I did not think you needed to be burdened by something so insignificant.”
Giyuu stared at her as he mouthed the word insignificant, the look he shot her giving the distinct impression he thought her an idiot. “I do not think your safety is insignificant,” Giyuu’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, clenching it tight. “Nor do I think you are insignificant.”
“Compared to your other obligations? I should think I’m very unimportant.” Y/N turned away from him, fiddling with a gathering basket she carried on her hip to avoid having to look him in the eyes.
But the raven-haired Pillar caught her wrist and turned her back to face him, not willing to be ignored. “If you call for me, I will come to you.”
Y/N’s heart lurched at the Water Pillar’s words, spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made her falter in her step. “Tomioka-san,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide as she turned to him. “You have far more important duties to see to than to concern yourself with than mere village drama —“
But the raven-haired Hashira only shook his head as he took another step towards her, his expression severe; calculating. “You have the knife I gave you, yes?” His eyes dropped to her pocket, and Y/N felt compelled to show him that the small blade was indeed tucked safely within the folds of her hakama pants.
“Giyuu,” she pled, and she noted the way that he twitched towards her at the sound of his name falling from her lips. “Please, don’t worry —“
“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” the Water Pillar cut her off, closing the distance between them until the tips of his zori nearly grazed hers, his head bent down towards her as the heat of his stare threatened to consume her. “So I repeat: if you call for me, I will come to you.”
Any thought of arguing faded from her mind as Y/N became keenly aware of the lack of space between their bodies, of the way her hands, clasped in front of her chest brushed against the folds of his haori as it shifted softly with the wind.
“I understand,” she breathed. Y/N held his gaze for a long moment, though it was in part due to the battle waging within her not to allow her eyes to drop to his lips.
She would not let herself acknowledge how close they were; how soft they looked, or how warm they might feel against hers; her skin.
Giyuu lingered as well; after a pregnant pause, he finally stepped back, blinking as though coming out of a trance. “Good,” he nodded, and he glanced furtively over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he nodded as though satisfied before he turned crisply on his heel to begin his trek towards his duties and away from her. “Do not forget.” He called one last time over his shoulder, before the shadows of the woods swallowed him whole.
As Y/N dazedly made her way back towards the shrine, a crow following closely behind her, she almost laughed at the suggestion she could.
——-
Autumn, 1915
The weeks passed by without much fuss, and soon, the palpable tension that had settled over the Shrine as a result of Susumo’s lingering threats subsided. Soon, life at the Shrine returned to normal, and Y/N often found her mind wandering to thoughts of raven hair and endless blue eyes.
Until that night.
It had been a normal evening at the Shrine; autumn, blissful autumn had arrived, heralding forth crisp winds and golden skies. Though the days were steadily growing shorter, Y/N found herself rejuvenated by the new chill, especially as she watched the leaves of the trees shift from green to gold to ruby.
The leaves on her hairpin indeed had been a perfect match to those which were steadily drifting from the tall maples dotting the Shrine. Though she couldn’t wear her hair down the way she had the last time the Water Pillar paid the Shrine a visit, Y/N had found new ways to incorporate his gift into her daily life, weaving it through her plait or tucking it behind her ear.
That night had been one like any other; after dinner, the girls of the Shrine had scattered to tend to their evening duties. The shrine maiden had been walking alongside her Master, planning for the upcoming festival in the nearby village, during which the Shrine would seek new patrons to keep it operational. The women mulled over which families might be more inclined to assist them, and settled on a prominent merchant known to frequent other shrines on his travels through the country.
That was when they’d spotted the smoke.
“Fire!” A shrill voice cried, and both the old Priestess and Y/N blanched. “The honden is on fire!”
All at once, chaos broke out across the Shrine grounds as girls darted to and fro, frantic. Granny began barking at her charges, ordering the younger ones to gather in the courtyard while instructing the older girls to assist in putting out the flames.
"The granary!" Someone else cried. "The granary has gone up in flames!"
The elder Priestess snatched Y/N's wrist in her weathered hand. “The scrolls!” Granny's expression of horror was a sure match to her own. “They’re in the storeroom near the granary!”
The scrolls in question had been in the Shrine’s custody for over five hundred years, carrying sacred inscriptions of the gods and prayers essential to its operation and legitimacy.
They were priceless; irreplaceable.
“I’ll go!” And before her Master could protest, the Miko had already turned away and began sprinting toward the fire that was rapidly engulfing the granary near the back of the property.
Thankfully, the storeroom had yet to catch fire, but if the one steadily consuming the granary was not dealt with soon, it wouldn’t be long before it spread to consume the small wooden hut.
And Y/N knew it wouldn’t take much to reduce the storeroom to ash.
Coughing, she pressed her arm to her nose and mouth, using the large bell sleeve of her kosode to block some of the smoke that burned her eyes and nose. She pulled her other sleeve over her hand to protect it as she pushed the storehouse’s door aside.
Inside was dark; quiet. Though the nighttime made it difficult for her to see the scrolls and prints carefully rolled and tucked away into tiny cubbies lining the hut’s walls, Y/N wasn’t stupid enough to waste time searching for a candle to light. So, with only the flames eating away at the granary at her back to light her way, she began pulling handfuls of scrolls free from their storage, tucking them under her arm.
She turned to take her first armload of priceless Shrine artifacts from the storeroom and nearly tripped over a collection of heated coal pans that had been stacked in the corner to keep the scrolls sealed within the room at a stable temperature. She managed to hold onto her scrolls, however, and she quickly moved them away from the hut, placing them safely on a nearby rock that was still far enough away from the storeroom should it catch fire. She returned to the hut to survey what else she needed to salvage, but a familiar, tiny yelp and the flurry of movement in her periphery made the Miko’s stomach twist.
“Komatsu!” Y/N turned and saw the anxious younger girl lingering at the storage hut’s door, her tiny hands trembling. “Get away from here! It’s not safe!”
“B-but Sister,” the girl cried, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. “This is too much to do on your own —“
“You need to go find Granny,” the shrine maiden ordered. “I will join you in a moment.”
The girl’s lower lip wobbled. “But —,”
“Now!”
With a great sniff, the girl turned away, leaving Y/N alone once more. The Miko sighed and resumed her hasty perusal of the hut’s shelves, searching for anything else that could not be replaced.
There was a rustling near the doorway and Y/N bit her lip in an effort not to swear in front of her younger peer. “Komatsu, what did I say —“
She turned to admonish the girl, but her reprimand dried instantly on her tongue. For there, in the entryway to the storeroom, was Komatsu, her eyes wide and her face bone-white with a terror that matched Y/N’s own.
Because the girl was not alone.
Wrapped around her bicep was a hand, as large as a small boulder, and tipped with long, wicked claws that threatened to pierce Komatsu’s bicep. The hand was attached to a forearm, inhumanly thick and muscled. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes dragged up the length of the monstrous arm to behold the sinister face that grinned at her.
It was Susumo — only it wasn’t Susumo. Y/N recognized the vague features of the face that had once belonged to the village drunk and her personal tormentor. His hair was the same as was the general shape of his face, and the cruelty of his smirk, but that was where the resemblance to the Susumo she’d once known ended.
Now, he boasted a row of sharp fangs that distended nearly to his lower lip. And his eyes — no longer were they a cold, soulless black; now they were crimson red, and his pupils were cut into catlike slits.
Demon. A voice whispered in her mind. Demon.
“Enjoy my fires, Priestess?” Even Susumo’s voice had changed, forming a growl that matched his monstrous appearance. “I set them for you — I knew you would not be able to resist seeing such a spectacle.”
“Komatsu,” Y/N ignored him in favor of addressing the young girl, though her voice was unusually high though she fought to keep it as steady as possible. “Please go find Granny and help her with the honden.”
The young trainee trembled but Susumo’s clawed hand only tightened around her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, sweet Priestess,” the demon crooned. “You have something I want, you see.”
The slick, oily look in his eyes made his desire clear.
Y/N’s eyes darted quickly around the hut, finally falling on a series of coal pans stacked to the side of the room, only a few feet from where she stood, paralyzed. Her quick, cursory glance at the pans revealed iron that was slightly red, and she swore she could see the air around them distorted by the heat.
Hot; they were still hot.
The Miko looked back to where the demon continued to leer at her, ravenous. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I will go with you, Susumo.”
Komatsu looked between her and the demon in horror, but Y/N only kept her eyes locked with the demon’s. She edged closer to where the coal pans were still burning hot, eyes not daring to drop his as she drew closer to the demon and the younger trainee. He grinned, revealing cruelly sharp and bloodstained teeth, and his yellow eyes shone with a triumphant smugness, believing the Miko was surrendering to him at last.
As she brushed past the pans, Y/N furtively reached out a hand and closed her fingers around one of the handles. “Komatsu,” the Miko kept her eyes carefully trained on the demon. “Run.”
Her hand seized around the coal pan and with every ounce of her strength, she swung it toward the demon. The hot iron of the pan slammed into the side of his head, forcing him to drop his hold on the younger girl. There was a struggle between the older shrine maiden and the demon, who fought to wrench the pan free from her fierce grip, but Y/N would not relent.
“Run!” She shrieked at the girl again, and Komatsu darted away. Y/N’s fingers stretched to close around the tiny lever on the handle of the coal pan, and with a snarl of fury, she managed to latch around it, squeezing it with all her might. The lid of the pan opened and red-hot coals spilled forth over the demon’s head. Susumo howled in fury, and Y/N dropped the pan, letting it crack against his head as she shot past him, desperate to escape the tiny storeroom.
The faster she got into open air, the better chance she had of living.
But a claw, sharp and deadly sunk into her bicep, and yanked her back. She could not help the small scream that tore from her throat as she felt his talons rip at her skin and the sleeve of her kosode was shredded into ribbons beneath his nails.
“Sister Y/N!” Komatsu’s tiny, terrified voice cried out from several feet ahead.
The shrine maiden swallowed her building panic. “Go!”
The little girl hesitated again and Y/N knew she could not follow after her, not without risking her safety once again. With a defiant scream of rage, the shrine maiden tore her arm free of the demon’s razor-like claws, fighting back the bile that rose in her throat as she felt blood run down her arm, hot and thick.
The demon grasped wildly at her but found only air. Thinking only of the safety of Komatsu and her fellow trainees, Y/N turned on her heel and ran for the trees, away from the chaos unfolding at the Shrine.
And the demon, still snarling and panting and undoubtedly enraged, followed her into the forest.
Shit, shit, shit!
Y/N hurtled over a snarled root as she ran, her life dependent upon every stride as she fled the newly-demented Susumo.
In the back of her mind, the Miko knew her efforts were in vain; because for every inch she managed to gain, the angry demon at her heels seemed to gain a foot.
“You’ve denied me for far too long!” The monster’s voice growled behind her, far too close for comfort. “I will have you!”
Y/N palmed the small nichirin knife tucked safely within the deep pockets of her hakama pants, and wildly she wondered whether it was possible to decapitate a demon with such a small blade. Perhaps the Water Pillar should have left her a sword. After all, a sword could not really be that different from a broom, and she’d walloped her fair share of handsy drunkards and would-be thieves with the cleaning tool.
If she lived through the night, she would tell him as much the next time she saw him.
Y/N’s musings did nothing to help her avoid the root of an old tree that jutted out from the earth, snarling around her ankle and sending her flailing to the forest floor. Angry tears of frustration clouded her eyes. Although she knew these paths like the back of her hand, that knowledge did her little good in the dark, as she fled for her life.
Scrambling up to her feet, Y/N caught sight of a pair of eyes watching her from the brambles, dark and inky.
A crow. The image of a certain Hashira flashed before her eyes, as Y/N recalled the way that the members of the Demon Slayer Corps used crows to communicate.
Perhaps this crow was so affiliated, and she was desperate enough to try. “Please!” Y/N begged, sobbing as the crow stared down at her with those black eyes. “Giyuu!”
———
The night had been unusually peaceful for the Water Pillar.
His ambling patrol around his territory’s perimeter hadn’t revealed so much as a whisper of demonic activity. But the absence of any conspicuous threat did not mean his guard was down; his eyes remained sharp, his ear finely tuned, listening for any shift in the wind, any sign that something was amiss and required investigation —
A sudden rustle of leaves sounded from his right, and Giyuu’s hand moved reflexively for his blade, bracing against its hilt in preparation. A small shadow burst from the canopy above him, its wings flapping wildly. He recognized it instantly as the crow he’d assigned to watch over the Shrine — to watch over her.
“Demon attack at the Mountain Shrine!” The crow squawked, circling above him frantically. “Demon attack! Go now — quickly!”
He hadn’t hesitated to turn sharply on his heel, furiously making his way toward the Shrine. He broke through the line of trees at its edge in record time, and even he’d been taken aback by the chaos that had broken out.
“The honden is on fire!” the old woman cried out to the Pillar as he swiftly landed among the chaos unfolding across the shrine grounds. “The girls were still doing their evening duties – but then another fire was started near the granary!”
“My crows said a demon had made an appearance,” Giyuu’s eyes carefully scanned the terrified, frantic faces of the Shrine’s residents, his hands braced against the hilt of his sword. “Has anyone been hurt?”
The head Priestess stared at the Water Pillar in muted horror. “I have not seen – but I haven’t taken any headcount of the girls to know –”
A piercing cry from near the south gate of the Shrine cut the old woman off, and both Priestess and Slayer whipped toward the sound. A girl, no more than nine, was half-running, half-stumbling toward them, frightened tears streaking down her face.
“Komatsu!” the old Priestess blanched as she caught sight of the small apprentice’s busted, bloodied lip. With a sob, the young girl flung herself into her elder’s arms and clung tightly to her. “What on earth –?”
“Sister Y/N!” the girl called Komatsu wailed, and Giyuu felt himself go cold. “Granny – th-that man – he’s a monster!”
The head Priestess paled in recognition. “Susumo?” Giyuu’s gut clenched at the name. The old woman knelt before the girl, her hands clutching wildly at her slim shoulders as she shook her lightly to recenter her. “Komatsu, was Susumo the monster?”
The young girl nodded. “He was so – hiccup – fast! I didn’t even see him!” She only cried harder. “And t-then Sister Y/N – she grabbed the coal pan and dumped it on him until he let go.” Komatsu trembled as she lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. “A-and then she t-told me to r-run –”
THe old Priestess caught the girl’s quivering chin in her hand and forced her to meet her eyes. “Where is Y/N, Komatsu?”
Komatus’s eyes were wide with fear. “She ran,” she whispered. “Into the woods – b-but Granny – she was bleeding –”
The Shrine’s Priestess turned to the Slayer, ready to beg him to follow after the demon and her apprentice, but the Water Pillar was gone. For a brief moment, she feared all hope was lost; that they’d been abandoned and non one would be able to save the young Miko – her heir – from whatever horrid fate awaited her at the ends of Susumo’s crazed, brutal claws.
She caught a flurry of movement right against the dark line of trees that snagged her attention; a flap of the edge of a mismatched haori, and the glint of a blade being drawn, its wielder already furiously making his way into the shadowy depths of the forest.
The Priestess exhaled and clutched her trembling young trainee to her chest. As she soothed the shaken young girl, the old woman prayed the Water Pillar would not be too late.
–
She was fucked; well and truly fucked.
Y/N had no idea how long she’d spent sprinting furiously through the forest, but she knew she was quickly running out of stamina. Worse, it seemed the demon on her heels knew she was slowing, and was now playing with her. But even his patience seemed to be at its wit’s end; for a sudden sharp blow to her back sent the Miko flying several feet forward until she slammed against the uneven, rough terrain of the forest floor.
Y/N gasped for air that would not come as she tried to push herself up. Crawl! Her mind begged her body. Crawl, damn you!
A dark chuckle from behind sent every hair on her body standing straight on end. A hand locked around her ankle and flipped her over until she was nearly nose to nose with the demon crouched over her. “Got you,” he sang, and the moonlight glinted off the sharp edge of his fangs as he grinned.
Her fingers found the handle of the knife the Water Pillar had gifted her in her pocket. With a determined grunt, she pulled it free and plunged it deep into the meat of his shoulder, praying furiously to any god who would listen that she might have hit an artery so that he would bleed out.
The demon loosed an enraged scream and fell away from her, hands blindly fumbling for the blade.
No longer pinned beneath him, Y/N scrambled back. Her hands scraped against the broken brush and pebbles below her in her desperate attempt to put distance between herself and the demon rising to his feet ahead of her, snarling. As he began advancing toward her, Susumo gripped the knife she’d buried in his shoulder and with a grunt, he wrenched it free and tossed it carelessly to the side, right along with the last shred of any hope she’d had of making it out of the woods alive.
The demon’s mouth curled into a cruel, savage grin, the moonlight glinting off his long, wicked fangs. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled, saliva dripping down his chin as his nostrils widened to scent her blood and her fear.
This was it; there was nowhere for her to run, no weapon she could try and protect herself with. There was nothing she could do; she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Just as Susumo drew upon her, close enough that she could smell the rancid, pungent odor of rotted meat on his breath, he stumbled back, startled.
One moment the demon was standing mere inches from her, ready to devour her whole; the next, he was sent sailing back, his body smashing into the trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thump!
A blur of dark matter soared over the Miko’s head toward the monster. Susumo barely had time to stand before the shadow converged on him once more. There was a flash of light — the moon reflecting off metal — followed by a dull thud. The shrine maiden’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the head of the former village drunkard roll across the forest floor before distingrating, his body following soon after.
She was nearly hyperventilating as the shadow turned to face her, but the pall of the moon finally illuminated the face of her savior — her Water Pillar.
“G-Giyuu,” she stuttered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of relief that washed over her all at once.
But Giyuu did not respond, his lapis eyes narrowing in on the dark stain spreading across the white of her kosode. Y/N cowered at the cold, unbridled rage that contorted the ordinarily stoic Hashira’s face as he began to shake at the sight of her blood. In a flash, Giyuu had closed the distance between them and knelt down by her side, gripping her wounded arm in his hand as he tried to pull her tattered sleeve down and inspect her wound.
“Tomioka — Giyuu,” she pled, trying to wrench her arm from his iron-like grip. “Please, it’s not that bad —“
“Did it get you anywhere else?” Giyuu demanded harshly, and the authority underlying his tone made Y/N fall silent for the first time since she’d known him. “Did it -“ the Water Pillar hesitated. “Did it touch you anywhere else?”
Y/N was trembling, and the Hashira’s hand around her arm tightened. “Ah!” She winced. “No, I promise, Giyuu, it’s just a flesh wound, I’m fine-,”
“You are bleeding. You are not fine.” Giyuu snapped back. “You could’ve been killed, or turned, or -,” the Water Pillar began to hyperventilate, and it shook the young Miko to her core. The Water Hashira was normally so unflappable, so stoic, that his panicked anger frightened her.
“-So do not tell me you’re fine,” Giyuu’s rant continued. “Not when you could’ve — not when I might’ve failed — not again --”
She was at a loss for what to do as she watched the raven-haired man struggle to form words. Vaguely, she recalled the way the Granny-Priestess had once explained to her that when someone panicked, they needed to regulate their breathing, and there were many ways someone could help force another to breathe properly…
Stomach fluttering, Y/N’s free hand came up to grip the fold of the Water Pillar’s haori. Giyuu’s incessant rambling only ended when her lips urgently pressed against his own, his eyes going wide. A heartbeat or two passed and then the Miko pulled away, her eyes serious as she stared at the stunned Water Hashira.
“You need to give me a sword.” She told him, earnestly, her face blazing.
———
Giyuu helped her back to the Shrine, though the Miko found herself needing to bat off the Water Pillar with a stern reminder that she’d only sustained a small arm wound as he’d tried to scoop her up into his arms.
The Swordsman had been rather subdued the entire journey out of the forest, his eyes curiously wide and dazed right until the pair breached the tree line at the edge of the Shrine’s property. The moment they stepped into open ground, they were swarmed by the tearful, relieved faces of the Shrine’s inhabitants. Words of gratitude to him were woven through worries over the Miko’s arm wound as they made their way across toward the small infirmary which, thankfully, had not been touched by Susumo’s fire.
The honden itself was still standing; though the flames had finally been subdued, smoke still curled up toward the sky, blocking any view of the moon or the stars.
The head Priestess waited for them outside the infirmary. Though her face was grave, Giyuu could spy the relief shining in her eyes. He stood numbly by as the Miko and her master regarded each other warily for a moment, before the elder Priestess reached forward and yanked her charge forward into a fierce embrace.
“Reckless girl,” she chastised gently against the side of Y/N’s head. “Thank every one of the gods that you’re safe.” The old Priestess’s eyes found those of the Water Pillar. “And thank you, Lord Tomioka.”
Y/N was promptly escorted inside to have her wound examined and stitched. Despite the old shrine keeper’s gratitude for his aid in saving the young shrine maiden, that thankfulness apparently did not extend to permitting him inside the infirmary with them, and for good reason. For under the Elder’s withering glare, the Water Pillar realized that Y/N’s treatment would require her to be stripped of her kosode, leaving her exposed and bare.
As unwilling as he’d been to part from her, the thought of witnessing the Miko undressed and vulnerable had been enough to temper his urge to look after her, if nothing else because the mental image of her in such a state flustered him to no end.
Though, he supposed his bewilderment also had something to do with what had transpired between them in the forest.
Kissed him; the shrine maiden had kissed him.
His fingers drifted to his lips. They still felt warm where they’d been graced by hers, and he swore he could still feel the softness of her mouth from where it had brushed against his.
He needed to talk to her; he needed to know what the hell she’d been thinking, kissing him like that.
But as shocking as the Miko’s kiss had been, there was something else, something far heavier, that weighed on his mind.
She’d nearly been killed. By a demon. On his watch.
He should’ve apologized; he should’ve begged for her forgiveness for letting her come that close with death. For letting her get wounded because he hadn’t been fast enough.
I was concerned for you, he wanted to tell her. I thought I would be too late.
No; concern didn’t cover it; did not do near enough justice to his true emotions upon learning the Miko had fled into the dark forest with a hungry, loathsome demon hot on her trail.
He’d been scared; terrified; almost beside himself at the possibility that he’d be too late and find that she’d already been reduced to the beast’s meal,
He’d been scared he’d never again see her smile or hear her laugh, and that had terrified him more than anything. For it was the memory of both that soothed his anxious nerves each time he startled awake from visions of his dead loved ones, demanding to know why they had died in his stead.
He’d feared that he would have to add her face to those he saw when he slept — the faces of those he’d failed to protect, who’d died for his sake. He’d been terrified of seeing her image in painstaking clarity, just as he saw the faces of his sister and Sabito every morning.
He did not know what to do with them, these confusing feelings, so abundant and intense that they’d welled up within him and threatened to spill over. He couldn’t name them, let alone begin to untangle the knot they’d formed within his heart. All he knew was that every one of them were inextricably tied to her.
His shrine maiden.
His.
—
Y/N’s arm ached, but it had been properly sewn and bandaged, and there was work to do before she could settle in for the night; and so, she found herself helping her peers with cleaning up the courtyard from the debris of the night’s events.
Truthfully, she'd been grateful for the distraction. Occupying herself with cleanup meant she did not have to think about what she’d done in the forest. But then Granny Priestess saw her trying to heave away broken wood with her freshly stitched arm and Y/N found herself forced to abandon her fellow trainees as the old bat smacked her upside the head and squawked about how she was going to break her stitching and complicate the healing process.
The Miko tried not to pout as she retreated, opting instead to grumble over the old woman’s dramatics as her arm stung and her ego throbbed. When she finally returned to her sleeping quarters, exhaustion slammed into her, making her limbs heavy and leaden. Unable to quite rally the energy to crawl into her futon, she slumped against the doorway of the room, her head and her heart a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite name.
What she’d felt the moment the Water Pillar had stepped into the moonlight had been more than mere relief that he’d managed to save her life for the second time. She’d felt safe, so unbelievably safe that the forest itself could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have been afraid; not as long as he was there with her.
Something between them had shifted; that much was clear. In truth, things likely had begun to change the moment she repaired his haori, and she’d admitted to him her deep-seated loneliness and lack of belonging.
She only hoped he felt the change, too.
—
Much to Y/N’s chagrin, autumn was quickly giving way to blasted winter.
Though, the Miko hadn’t been able to fully resent the rapid shift in the seasons; repairs at the Shrine had consumed nearly all of her attention, and as Granny’s heir, she was expected to contribute to its reconstruction more than any other trainee.
That expectation meant Granny left the task of figuring out how to finance the necessary repairs entirely to her young protege. Y/N had spent all of two days agonizing over ways to raise the necessary funds when she awoke to find a mysterious sack of money that had been left on the doorstep of the honden. Inside had been an amount more than generous to cover the cost of repairs from the fire, with a hefty remainder that could be put toward other necessary improvements to spruce the Shrine up, and perhaps restore it to its former glory.
No note had been left with the money to indicate the identity of the Shrine’s benefactor. But amid all the excitement of her peers at the thought of being able to afford materials and laborers to assist with the more difficult aspects of the Shrine’s refurbishment, Y/N had spotted a familiar crow perched high in a nearby tree.
That position had afforded the bird with a perfect view of the money sack, allowing it to silently ensure it fell into the proper hands. But repairs had finally slowed, and Y/N now found her days returning to normal. Almost.
What was not normal was how agitated she'd become in waiting for his return.
Another week passed without any communication from the Water Pillar, and the Miko had grown desperate for any sort of distraction. She found herself one late, autumn morning passing the time in the Shrine’s garden hut. She was pretending to be searching for tools that would help her prune the wilting Shrine garden when something grazed against the small of her back. Startled, she turned and was greeted by familiar, unruly raven hair and a pair of deep azure eyes.
“Giyuu,” his name slid easily off her tongue, and suddenly she could not remember why she’d called him anything else.
A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”
A poignant silence followed, and her cheeks grew hot. "Don't mind me," she said quickly, turning her head away from him as she pretended to organize stray gardening supplies. "I am only just now finishing my tasks for the day."
Though he remained silent, she became acutely aware of the way Giyuu’s eyes followed her as she tried desperately to keep herself busy, to avoid having to meet that piercing, discerning stare.
“I did not get a chance to properly thank you after the turmoil of that night,” she said casually. Nervously, she hoped that his heightened senses did not alert him to the way her heart fluttered in her chest, or how her stomach flipped in her gut. Her nails dug into her palms as she lifted her head to meet that unnerving, fathomless stare.
But the Water Pillar had already closed most of the distance between them, having moved so silently she’d not heard him, despite even the creaky, uneven slatted floor of the garden hut. “How is your wound?” He asked softly, his hand skirting up the outside of the arm Susumo had wounded. “Has it healed?”
It took a great amount of effort for Y/N to remember how to keep her breathing steady. But she forced her lips into an easy smile as she rucked up the flared sleeve of her kosode to reveal her bicep. “It will likely scar,” she admitted, her fingers lightly tracing over the three, angry red marks that remained imprinted on her skin, though they’d fully scabbed over. “I consider myself quite lucky, all things considered.”
“Why did you do it?”
The Miko ducked her head, willing the sheet of her hair to fall and conceal her mounting blush. She did not need to ask him to clarify; she knew after what he was asking.
But she feigned ignorance all the same. “I don’t know what you mean, Tomioka-sama –”
“Don’t call me that,” and even though she refused to meet his eyes, she could sense his irritation at her avoidance. “We’re well past such formalities, Y/N.” Giyuu stepped closer to her, his cerulean eyes melting into something more akin to the midnight blue of the evening sky. “You kissed me. That night.” The Water Pillar’s hand glided up the arm that Susumo had injured, caressing softly over the healed skin beneath the sleeve of her kosode.
“I-I did no such thing!” Y/N sputtered, though her reddening cheeks betrayed her. “I was only attempting to help you calm down — you were panicking, and inconsolable.”
Giyuu’s responding smirk only served to irritate her more. “Should I thank you then, Y/N?” His hand slid from her shoulder to below her chin, his delicate fingers curling to tilt her head up towards his, as he closed the distance between their bodies. “Should I show you how grateful I am that you were able to assuage my worry?”
Y/N tried to focus on anything but the feeling of Giyuu’s breath — warm and enticing — against her face as he leaned in close. “You had no reason to worry; I was completely fine before you showed up.”
“Fine,” the ravenette scoffed, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. “So fine that you were bleeding and about to become that beast’s snack — or worse.”
“But you saved me, did you not?” Y/N whispered, unable to stop her eyes from dropping to the Water Pillar’s sensual, soft-looking mouth before rising once more to meet his punishing gaze. “And then I helped you.”
Giyuu’s second hand brushed against her waist and the shrine maiden thought she might leap out of her skin. “You did,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small, half-smile. “Though I apologize that you needed to do so — I suppose I become a little over-zealous when things that are precious to me are threatened.”
Even if she could have thought of some witty remark to throw back at him, those words surely would have been blocked by her heart as it lodged in her throat.
Things that were precious to him. She was precious to him.
“So I’ll ask again, Y/N,” Giyuu whispered, and his nose brushed delicately against hers. “Should I thank you for your assistance?” The fingers beneath her chin stroked her jaw. “Should I kiss you?”
She fought to suppress the excited shudder that licked up her spine. “Yes, Lord Hashira,” she breathed, and her stomach turned cartwheels as Giyuu’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Perhaps you should.”
“Who am I to deny the request of a priestess?” Giyuu murmured, and then his lips were moving against hers, warm and soft. Y/N’s fingers flew to clutch the Water Pillar’s rocky biceps beneath the soft cloth of his haori, anchoring him against her. The hand that had gripped below her chin slid to the side of her face, tilting her head so that the Water Pillar could have better access to her as he pressed his lips harder against hers.
Y/N moaned into his kiss, wanting him closer, impossibly closer to her than he currently was.
Giyuu broke away from her once, though he kept a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place. “What are your duties today?”
Y/N’s fingers curled around the front of the Water Pillar’s haori, her forehead resting against his. “None of import.” She gave him a sly smile. “No one will miss me if I am gone for a few hours.”
Giyuu returned her smile with a tiny smirk of his own. “In that case,” he tugged her hand and he began to lead her towards the grassy overlook where they’d spent a great deal of time talking and learning one another. “I could use your assistance.”
–
Y/N hadn’t greeted the sunrise with the intent to neglect her shrine duties, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she ended up spending the day.
They spent the day resting on the hillside overlooking the shrine grounds, rolling back and forth upon the browning grass as they kissed each other again and again.
“You weren’t wrong, that day — right after we met,” Giyuu gasped against her lips as they broke apart, the blush on Y/N’s cheeks a sure match to his own. “I do not find you captivating.”
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth parted, a protest on her tongue when Giyuu surged forward, his lips brushing against her neck. The Miko’s words choked off with a squeak as the Water Pillar danced his lips to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out once right where her heart pulsed wildly.
“I think you are utterly transfixing; enchanting,” he breathed against her skin. “You have cast a spell over me that I do not want broken.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone could wield that sort of power over a Hashira,” Y/N’s voice was high pitched as Giyuu’s lips made their way back to hers.
In the back of her mind, Y/N wondered if his words were motivated purely by his physical desire for her. It would not have surprised her if he was only so taken with her because he longed to be touched; held. Like him, she’d gone much of her life without intimacy from anyone. She could not blame him for seeking it from someone so willing to give as she.
“But you are not just anyone, not to me.” was all he replied, his lips moving softly against hers once more. “You are…everything.”
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The Water Pillars words, dripping like honey from his lips, were only sweetened by the fervent sincerity of his eyes as he pulled back to gaze into hers, so deeply, she felt as though he could see every thought in her head.
She wondered if he lowered that piercing, discerning stare, whether he’d be able to see straight to her heart, too; see how it bore his name.
Even though her breath guttered in her throat at his words, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. The idea that she’d attached more meaning to their relationship than he, that perhaps she’d overestimated her value to him made her tense, made her want to push him away and —
“You’re distracted,” Giyuu murmured against her lips, brushing his nose against hers. “Your thoughts are loud.”
Her fingers caught the front fold of his haori, fiddling idly with it. “There is nothing for you to repay, you know. You do not owe me your time or your attention. I know the Shrine is simply a part of your designated patrol. I understand if its convenience is the only reason —”
A single finger pressed itself against her lips, quieting her. “You think and talk too much.” The ravenette chastised. Her mouth parted, a protest forming on her lips, when he cut her off again. “Ah ah,” Giyuu silenced her with his lips, his tongue flicking out to skim along her bottom lip. Above her, he shifted and allowed his weight to fall against her, pinning her beneath him. Reluctantly, his mouth broke away from hers. “It is my turn to speak.”
“I do not come to the Shrine because it is easy,” Giyuu’s lips brushed hesitantly against her jaw. “Nor do I come here out of any preconceived obligation to repay your kindness.”
He pulled back to study her, panting and flushed beneath him. As his eyes slowly combed over her, Y/N felt a strange knot pull and twist in the depths of her stomach. “There is only one thing that brings me back here, no matter how exhausted I am after weeks of endless missions; no matter how often certain junior Corps members pester me to train them.” His eyes narrowed at the hollow of the Miko’s throat, exposed by the way her kosode had shifted as the pair of them rolled around the grass. Curious, Giyuu leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against it.
And then he did the unthinkable; the Water Pillar moaned, ever so softly, against the fluttering of Y/N’s frantic pulse. The sound, so rich and full of need – of want – washed over her and drowned out all other thoughts, all other higher reasoning from her mind. INstead, the Miko was left with nothing but the sharp urge to press her thighs together, an unknown heat beginning to pool in her most sacred area.
“Do you know what that thing is, Y/N?” He whispered against the soft dip in her throat, his breath hot as it fanned across her skin. “Can you guess what it is I cannot stay away from – could not, even if I desired otherwise?”
His fingers dropped to the collar of her kosode, tracing lightly over its crisp, white fold. “When I close my eyes in the mornings, it is your face I see,” he murmured. “It is your laugh I hear in my dreams; your scent I find myself longing for when I awaken.”
The Miko shivered as his index finger traced from her collar up her throat, over her chin until it came to rest on her bottom lip, gently stroking over its curve. “It is you I seek to turn to remind myself that there is still good in this world – good still worth protecting. Why is that, Y/N?” His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed almost earnest in his question. “Why is it that my mind refuses to be occupied by anything but you?”
“Because I vex you,” she said softly, eyes wide and locked with his. “Because, try as you might, you’ve never been able to fully fit me into a box as you have with others.”
Giyuu shook his head. “Vex me?” He tsked at her. “Perhaps once that was true. But now? I desire you in ways I can hardly understand, and it drives me mad.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “What are you saying?”
“I think I’ve been rather clear,” and instinctively, Giyuu rolled his hips against hers, desperate to relieve some of the friction mounting in his groin. “And it’s that I want –”
But the Miko did not get to hear what Giyuu wanted; not as he was drowned out by the screeching cry of a bird from high above. Only, this bird was not the dull, graying crow she’d come to associate with her Swordsman.
“I thought your crow was older?”
The Water Pillar frowned as he turned to look up, his eyebrows drawn together. “That’s not Kanzaburo — that’s one of the Master’s —“
“CAW,” the bird circled above their heads in narrow, rapid turns. “Lord Tomioka! Return to headquarters immediately!”
Giyuu’s jaw clenched. “Can it not wait?”
Y/N, however, only gaped up at the bird flying above them. “It talks —?”
But the crow only cried again, “Emergency meeting at headquarters!!
With a short, frustrated exhale, Giyuu rolled to the side of the Miko and rose, but not before he extended a hand and helped lift her to her feet.
He gingerly brushed some loose grass from her hair. “I’m sorry.”
She only shook her head as she reached to adjust his haori, righting it in his shoulders. “It’s your duty, Giyuu. I understand that.”
He scowled back up at the bird still circling above them, bleating a refrain of “Emergency! Go now!”
“I’m not finished with this conversation,” Giyuu said plainly, a frustrated hand working through his hair. Though his annoyance was plain as day, it fell away as he looked back to the Miko at his side, his gaze softening. “Nor am I finished with you.”
A single finger reached under Y/N’s chin and lifted her head toward him so he could brush another kiss against her lips. “I will come see you – soon.”
With a shy boldness, the Miko rose on her toes and gave him one final kiss, and Giyuu’s hand tightened where it rested against her waist. “I’ll wait for you, Lord Hashira.”
———
December, 1915
Y/N cursed at the ancient priestess who insisted on using only gas-powered lanterns rather than the newer, much safer, electric powered lights that other shrines had begun using.
“We are an esteemed shrine dating back hundreds of years,” the old crone had simpered, “Tradition has kept us going this far!”
Y/N hadn’t helped her cause by asking whether tradition or spite was what kept the hag from dying off and finally leaving her in peace.
And that was how the young Priestess-to-be found herself stomping through the snowy grounds of the Shrine, forced to light each and every lantern by hand using a match and oil, utterly by herself.
She knew better than to levy such an obvious taunt at the old woman, but admittedly, Y/N hadn’t been in the best of moods as of late.
Giyuu had not returned since that day on the hillside, when he’d kissed her silly and told her he could not stop thinking of her. It was as though he no longer existed; even the crows at the Shrine were no more, having all disappeared one morning before she’d awoken.
As the weeks passed, the weight of his absence had grown heavier, threatening to beat her into the ground below.
But Y/N had done her best to hold her tongue over the last weeks as her anxiety mounted, and Granny should’ve known that — so really, it was her own fault if she’d taken offense to the Miko’s barb.
She grumbled and cursed under her breath as she trudged toward the small garden hut standing at the furthest edge of the Shrine’s grounds — her last stop of the night. She shoved past the old, rickety door and braced her merrily flickering, hand-held lantern out before her, bathing the small hut in a warm, orange glow.
All was silent and quiet within the small storeroom. The air was cold, though the slatted walls of the hut offered some protection from the howling, snow-dotted winds outside. Determined to complete her task and return to the comfort of her warm futon, the Miko fumbled around one of the store shelves for a small can of oil.
“It’s you,” a quiet voice startled her from behind, and Y/N nearly dropped the lantern clutched in her hands.
But she did not feel afraid as she recognized the calm, soothing cadence of the voice, that voice that belonged to the one person capable of making her blush.
The one person who held her heart.
“It’s been a while, Giyuu. I was wondering when I’d see you again.” She turned and saw the raven-haired man standing in the doorway of the garden hut, his face characteristically neutral, though he seemed tense, even more so than usual.
Instantly, she moved toward him. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes tightened, and the darkness which swam within them betrayed his aloof facade. “Things have changed quickly in my world,” he began, and she saw his fists clench at his sides. “We believe the demons are preparing for war — and so we have been as well.
“War?” She repeated softly, her step faltering. “I hadn’t realized the demons were so…organized.”
Giyuu nodded. “One creature is responsible for all demons. He is the orchestrator; he is the one we must kill, and we believe the opportunity to do so is drawing nearer.”
The monotonous cadence of his voice fell away as he quietly added, “That is why I haven’t been able to return — we’ve been training. This battle — it may start at any moment.”
He made like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, pressing his lips into a tight line.
“And?” She prompted gently, taking a solitary step toward him.
“He hesitated, and she spied how his throat worked to swallow. “And I do not know when I will be able to see you again. After tonight.”
Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his. “When you say you don’t know ‘when’ we will see each other again,” she began, cautiously. “Do you mean ‘if?’”
Giyuu’s answering silence said more than any words could.
For a moment, the Miko could not remember how to speak, not as she felt the organ in her chest splinter into a thousand, mismatched pieces.
“I just wanted to see you,” the Water Pillar struggled to swallow around the growing lump in his throat. “One last time.”
She could scarcely breathe.
He was leaving and he might never return.
Leaving to go try and put an end to the scourge of demons that plagued their world. It was a noble thing to do; sacrifice in its purest form.
But she hated it.
She was filled with such a deep melancholy that it nearly brought her to her knees. As the Water Pillar turned to leave, Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she reached for him, her arms encircling him as her hands locked over his front, stilling him.
“Giyuu,” she said thickly, her face pressed into the back of his haori as she willed the tears in her eyes not to fall. “Giyuu.”
He turned in her grasp and looked down at her in awe, a finger rising to brush the errant tear that had escaped down her cheek as he held her gaze.
The flame within her lantern flickered as Giyuu softly grazed his lips against her own, Y/N’s arms weaving around his neck to hold him close to her.
His hands were gentle, if not a little uncertain as they found her waist, but once they came to a rest against her, he pulled her close, arms winding around her middle and holding her securely against him as he deepened the kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as she opened up for him, his tongue gliding alongside her own until she was left breathless and wanting.
Vaguely, the Miko was aware that he was walking them deeper into the garden hut, allowing the old door to thud shut behind him, and the thought of not returning to her plush futon suddenly did not seem like such a loss.
Giyuu’s hands returned to her face, thumbs stroking softly along her cheeks as he broke their kiss to brush his lips against her eyes, her nose, and forehead. Y/N’s hands parted the Water Hashira’s haori from his shoulders as Giyuu’s fingers dropped to her collar bone, sliding beneath her kosode, and grazing her bare shoulder.
“You have been my most treasured encounter,” he whispered, and she felt her heart seize in her throat, tears threatening to spill anew from her eyes.
A year’s worth of interactions had all led to this moment, but it was not the satisfying payoff of the tension and longing that had been steadily building between them.
This was a goodbye.
Because it was likely that the Water Pillar would not survive the impending battle; but neither did he want to leave this end untied.
She had known, deep in her heart, that this affair had been doomed before it had ever begun, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling for the kind, brave, selfless man now kissing her like she was his entire world anyways.
She would not get to have him in the morning, so she resolved to give herself to him for the night.
Giyuu’s hands eased her kosode from her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air within the garden hut. His warm hands, however, worked to chase away any chill that spread across her skin as he ran his palms over the curve of her shoulders before sliding down to rest on her bare waist, his long fingers grazing just below the curve of her breasts.
Her own fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt but in time, she’d worked them open and Giyuu broke their kiss long enough to let his shirt drop to the floor beneath them.
The two stood there for a moment, chests rising and falling rapidly, as they looked at one another, half-nude and vulnerable. The shrine maiden and the slayer knew that they had come upon a precipice, and if they stepped off that ledge, there would be nothing to break their fall.
Y/N made the first move, taking a tentative step towards the Water Pillar as she trailed her fingers lightly up the beautiful, sculpted ridges of his abdomen, relishing how warm he was beneath her touch.
Giyuu shivered beneath her fingertips as the miko’s hand came to a rest against his sternum, marveling the way his heart thundered beneath her hand. “Are you certain?” He breathed, his face was impassive, but his own uncertainty was betrayed by the slight tremor in his voice. His hand rose to gently cup the side of her face, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip.
She reached to grab the Pillar’s free hand and brought it up to rest against her sternum, mirroring her own hold on him so that he could feel the steady drum of her own heart — and how it thrummed for him. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Giyuu.”
Once, she had believed the Hashira incapable of expressing anything other than cold aloofness. she’d not been able to comprehend the subtle ways with which his eyes could signal his mood; how they darkened when angry, or how the outer corners turned up, almost imperceptibly, when he was content.
But she had long since learned to read him, and so, her stomach fluttered at the way the raven haired man’s gaze heated with both adoration and desire — for her.
Giyu brushed his nose against hers affectionately before bringing their lips together once more, his kiss growing fervent as her hands slid up to tangle in his ebony hair. Y/N gasped into his mouth as she felt Giyu bend down, his hands gripping firmly under her thighs as he lifted her up, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. Her lips parted, and Giyuu’s tongue slid seamlessly into her mouth.
Her lover locked one steely arm firmly around her lower back to support her as Y/N felt him lower them to the floor to lay her down, the Water Pillar’s free hand coming to brace against the back of her skull, to protect her head from thudding back against the wooden slats of the hut floor. The Miko steadied herself, prepared for the cold bite of the dirty hut floor to nip at the bare skin of her back, but she was only settled against something warm and soft; something that smelled distinctively of the Slayer panting above her.
Her fingers dropped to her side and grazed against the familiar fabric of Giyuu’s haori; his most prized and cherished possession, spread out beneath her to protect her from the cold ground, a makeshift bed against which she would let him take her and make her his.
He withdrew his lips from hers to sit back, his cerulean eyes tracing over every inch of her, from the way her dark hair spread out in a soft halo around her, to the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes darkened as they lowered to her bare chest, at the way it rose and fell jerkily as Y/N struggled to control her breathing.
Giyuu’s long, slim fingers reached out to trace along the top of her scarlet hakama pants, his finger tips just grazing along her ribs and the underside of her breasts.
“I’d never known such -,” He covered his struggle for words by pressing a sweet kiss against the hollow of her throat, a soft gasp escaping the Miko at the unfamiliar sensation. “Such beauty,” Giyuu’s lips trailed down to skirt across the ridge of her collar bone. “Not until I met you.”
His face was against her sternum, pressing kisses as he trailed his lips down her skin. “I am sorry I could not give you more time.” His voice was soft, softer than even she had ever known. Before she could respond, Giyuu’s mouth hesitantly brushed against the stiffened peak of her breast, and Y/N’s mouth fell open with a soft cry.
Azure eyes flashed up to meet hers. “Is this — is this okay?”
The Miko's eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, unable to trust that she could hold her voice steady if she spoke. Her fingers weaved their way through the Pillar’s thick, raven locks, and she grazed her nails against his scalp in encouragement.
Giyuu grunted softly at her touch, and he leaned forward to suck more of her soft mound into his hot mouth, teeth grazing lightly against her nipple as he explored her.
“Oh,” she moaned, her thighs inadvertently pressing together as Giyuu’s tongue and lips worshipped her bared flesh, licking and sucking and nipping at her in his devotion.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against the soft, sensitive skin of her breast. “So very beautiful.”
He repeated the movement again and again before he traced his mouth across her sternum and began lavishing her other breast with the same fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair as she mewled for him, enamored with the feeling of his hot mouth latched around her. He gave her more and yet it was not enough; every pass of his tongue over her stiffened peak only amplified the ache between her legs, only made the emptiness she felt more pronounced.
A breathy, whining and needy moan blew past her lips in time with a reflexive buck of her hips against his.
The ravenette pulled off her breast with a start, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed as he gazed down at her in awe. “Do that again.”
“W-what —?” She pushed herself up on her elbows to look down at him, her chest heaving.
“Tell me what to do,” Giyuu’s breath was ragged though his fingers continued trailing down her sides, seeking out the ties securing her bottoms around her waist. “Tell me how I might help you make that sound again.”
“I –” Y/N squirmed beneath the intensity of his gaze, her thighs rubbing together to stifle some of the electricity she felt between her legs. “I want you to – I need you closer.”
Her eyes drifted to the bulge that had formed between the Hashira’s thighs, and she felt her heart skip in her chest.
Giyuu pressed his groin against hers and ground. She gasped at the spark of pleasured friction the movement stoked between her thighs, and her eyes flew to meet his, only to see they were as wide as hers.
And just as hungry.
Her hand gently cupped his face. “Closer. Please.”
He pressed his cheek into her palm and with a soft groan, his fingers quickly loosened the fastenings of her bottoms and then he was pushing them down her hips and over her legs, discarding them carelessly to the side. Giyuu sat back on his knees and let his eyes roam her, now fully bare and laid out beneath him.
When his appraisal of her finally reached the thatch of curls between her thighs, the Water Pillar loosed a shaky breath. She had half a mind to cross her legs, to conceal the most intimate part of her body from the raging fire of his gaze as he studied her, but she forced herself to remain relaxed; open.
One, broad and calloused hand stretched tentatively out to run along the outside of her hip and down her leg, before smoothing back up in the inside of her thigh. His eyes flicked once to hers, and then he leaned forward and brushed delicate kisses down her abdomen, over her hip and along her thigh. He continued his descent as he slowly pushed himself back from her, and once he imparted one last, sweet press of his lips against her ankle, he rose.
The flickering light of the lantern cast shadows along the alabaster of his skin, further accentuating how the muscles of his torso and abdomen flexed and shifted as he worked to free himself of the remainder of his clothes. His eyes did not leave hers, not even as his hands found the buckle of his belt and tugged it loose, and Y/N found herself free falling into their depths.
The ravenette dropped his belt to the floor, and then his fingers were at the waistband of his trousers, pulling and fiddling with their fastening. At last, Giyuu freed his lower half from the confines of his uniform pants and stepped out from the puddle they made at his feet.
Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyes raked over his beautiful form, so lean yet solid and muscular. Her cheeks burned with a renewed blush as her gaze followed the small, dark trail of hair beginning just below his navel, and down between his hips, where the evidence of his desire stood proud.
Her throat went dry. He was large — the flared head of his tip nearly grazed his navel, and his width was a little more than two of her fingers. Her thighs clamped together nervously, as she pondered how on earth she’d be able to accommodate him.
Giyuu noticed her hesitation, and a faint dusting of pink spread across his cheeks. “I have never -“
The shrine maiden shook her head. “Nor I,” she whispered, though the knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to her helped ease the clench in her stomach. For all her nervousness, the Miko could not ignore the heat and longing which burned within her as she lifted her eyes back to his. She found her muscles softening as she saw the same fire within those cyan pools she’d come to love. Y/N laid back against the floor — against the comforting soft of his haori, and let body relax, her legs falling open to him.
She held her hand out to him, beckoning, “Come back to me, Giyuu.”
The ravenette did not hesitate as he returned to her, covering her body with his own as he pulled her in for a heated kiss, the weight of his hardened length resting heavily against her hip as he settled between the cradle of her thighs.
Y/N moaned into his mouth, instinctively rolling her hips against him, desperate to feel closer to the man who had claimed her heart before she’d realized anyone was capable of holding it.
Giyuu groaned, softly, against her as she repeated the movement, breaking their kiss to look down at the flushed Miko threatening to drive him wild with her silken touch. As much as he was desperate to feel her — every part of her — he knew what they were about to do would not be nearly as pleasurable for her as it would be for him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Water Pillar’s eyes were stormy, a tempest of competing desire and pain at the idea of causing her even the slightest discomfort raging within him.
Y/N brushed her lips against his once before trailing along his jaw, pausing only to suck softly as the soft spot beneath his ear. “I am only ever undone by you; never hurt.”
He moaned softly, lowering his head back down to reclaim her mouth firmly with his own, his lips beseeching her to let him consume her.
She was only too happy to do so, parting her mouth so that his tongue could slide in and dance languidly with hers, as he reached between them, gripping hold of his aching length and positioning himself at her entrance.
The first brush of his hot, velvety tip against her folds broke their kiss, both gasping at the new yet intoxicating feel of the other’s most intimate area.
Giyuu braced his free arm by her head, his fingers stretching to run comfortingly through her hair, as he pressed his forehead against hers. “If it becomes too much, just tell me, and we can stop.” His voice shook ever so slightly as he waited for her signal, the ache in his groin becoming nearly painful.
The Miko grazed her lips against his throat. “Don’t stop.” She murmured. She hitched her legs higher up on his hips, angling herself so the trembling man above her would have better access to her.
Slowly, so very slowly, the tip of Giyuu’s length began to push into her, and Y/N felt herself temporarily forget how to breathe. Above her, Giyuu’s eyes squeezed shut in a concerted effort not to sheathe himself within her in one stroke.
“Y/N,” Giyuu panted, unable to stop the shaky moan that fell from his lips as he sunk into her warm heat that wrapped tight, so impossibly tight around him.
The shrine maiden winced at the unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable sensation of being slowly stretched and filled by the Pillar. She felt as though she was a wave, crashing and breaking and parting around a rocky shore with every inch gained by the press of his hips against hers.
Giyuu hardly had a quarter of himself seated within her when he felt his head brush against a thin barrier. His eyes opened to look down at the Miko, panting beneath him, her eyebrows pinched in slight discomfort. When she noticed he’d stopped, she peered up at him through her thick eyelashes, her cheeks flushed.
The hand Giyuu had held at his base to help guide himself within her lifted to grip her hip, her legs relaxing as his fingers massaging soothing circles into her flesh. Giyuu removed his forehead from its resting place against hers and he buried his face into the side of her neck as he pressed his body flush against hers. The hand he’d used to brace himself found hers, and he lifted to rest above her head, his fingers twining tightly with her own.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, pressing a sweet kiss against the shell of his ear. Giyuu nearly shuddered at her words, and he pressed his hips forward, his cock finally breaching that thin, inner barrier to the rest of her welcoming heat.
Y/N cried out at the bright spark of pain that flared through her as Giyuu claimed her as his own, but the Pillar held her steady, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck.
A hitched gasp blew past Giyuu’s lips as he became fully seated within her heat, her core gripping him like a vice. He panted against the sweat-dampened skin of her neck as they both adjusted to the sensation, her nails digging harshly into the skin of his back as she waited for the discomfort to subside.
Giyuu pulled his face back to look down at her, the hand he’d had on her hip rising to cup her face as he brushed his lips across her cheeks and eyes.
“My beloved, are you all right?” His breath came hard and fast as he panted, the growing friction between where they were connected becoming hotter, more demanding the longer he remained still.
Y/N’s eyes slowly opened to meet his, he felt her relax as he kissed her, slow and gentle.
Her lips broke from his and she nodded, shakily. “You can move — just hold me. Please.”
Giyuu let his full weight fall against her as he wound an arm tightly around her waist, his other hand tilting her face up so he could kiss her fiercely, eager to show her what she meant to him when his words otherwise failed to do so. As she opened up to him, tongue flicking out shyly along his lip, Giyuu rolled his hips experimentally against hers.
Both the shrine maiden and the Pillar cried out in unison as Giyuu’s movement stoked an intense pleasure where they were joined.
It was like a spark of flame had ignited between her legs before shooting up to her belly, making her insides clench and pulse.
It was addicting, and, judging by the way the raven haired swordsman above her hissed, he’d felt that jolt of electrifying pleasure, too.
“Oh,” Giyuu moaned as he began to move atop her, his cock sliding in and out of her heat as he worked to set a pace. “You feel – this is –” his stutters broke off into ragged pants that melted into broken moans with every movement as he found his rhythm.
The grip he had on her hand tightened as he pulled back from her neck in favor of watching her body jolt and bounce with each of his thrusts.
His head dropped down to study how his length, now coated in something shiny, appeared with every long draw of his hips out before disappearing back into her warmth.
He threw his head back. “Heaven,” the Water Pillar groaned out, a tendon throbbing in his neck as another cracked moan slipped free from his throat. “You are heaven.”
Shallow thrusts turned deeper, more purposeful, as the Water Pillar settled into his tempo. Each push of his hips opened her up more, bit by bit, until Y/N’s limbs liquified and she was left moaning and whimpering in time with his movements.
One particular thrust made her cry out, caused her legs to reflexively tighten around Giyuu’s hips as something hot flared deep within her stomach.
“M-more,” she managed, her voice tapering off with a squeak. She needed to feel that spark again, wanted to feel that jolt of electricity that made her stomach clench. “P-please — ah!— Giyuu —“
With something between a moan and a growl, Giyuu angled himself to thrust deeper, his weight pushing her hips back from the floor. Her legs were forced to hike higher up his waist, her ankles locking instead against the dip in his spine rather than his backside.
The new angle meant that Giyuu was able to hit at a spot that sent a bolt of lightening between her legs, and she could feel herself tighten around him.
The combination of her walls fluttering and pulsing around him and the strange fullness she felt was both overwhelming and exhilarating. She did not think she could stand to feel empty again; to not feel him consuming every inch of her.
Gradually, the small garden hut was filled by the sounds of their pants and moans, weaving together to form the melody of a song meant only for them.
Giyuu began thrusting harder, and soon, a dull clap of skin began to reverberate off the hut’s slatted wood walls, adding a steady beat to the rhythm of their pleasure. Though the air inside the hut had been nearly as frigid as what lay beyond its door, both the Miko and the Slayer found themselves coated in a thin sheen of sweat that made their skin glisten in the faint, orange glow of her lantern.
Above her, the Water Pillar was as lost in his pleasure as she. Guided purely by instinct, Y/N arched her lower back away from the floor until her breasts were flush against his sternum, desperate to feel that jolting spark between her legs.
She felt the walls her of her core clench tighter around Giyuu’s length with her movement, and he answered her with a deep growl as his arm cinched tighter around her waist.
Deep; he was so deep within her, that she wondered whether he might reach her soul before they had to part.
Giyuu’s thrusts quickened, the base of his groin grinding against that sensitive spot between her thighs that had her wanting more as she moaned, her thighs squeezing the Hashira’s hips.
His head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut as the most beautiful sounds of pleasure Y/N had ever heard poured from Giyuu’s mouth.
“I — fuck.” He growled as one arm tightened around her waist to the point of pain, the other grabbing her hand to bring it to his lips in a futile attempt to stifle the sounds lilting from him like song.
His name fell from her lips like a hallowed oath and Y/N’s legs fell to the side, allowing Giyuu to chase the crescent of his release, as hips pistoned into her with wild abandon.
“Y-Y/N,” her black-haired beauty of a lover grit through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “My treasure, I-I’m gonna-“
The Water Pillar buried his face into the side of her neck, cradling his groans into her throat, and Y/N could feel his length twitch within her.
As Giyuu’s hips slammed into her one final time, so to did the realization that she loved this; she wanted always to be this close to him, wanted always to be unable to tell where she ended and he began.
She loved him.
But the bitter truth was that she’d never again get to hold Giyuu the way she was right then, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she felt something warm gush through her, a pleasured groan, so beautiful and husky tumbling from the Hashira’s lips as he pressed a sweet kiss against her collarbone.
She would not get to love him past this most sacred rite.
If she were honest, she’d likely never again experience this intimacy with anyone, for as long as she lived — for how could anyone else ever possibly compare?
She supposed she’d been doomed to never hold onto the people who were meant to love her since the day she was born. She should’ve known better.
But as the roll of Giyuu’s hips into her heat slowed, and his labored breaths eased, Y/N could not find it within herself to regret it; to regret him.
Because, fool though she was, she loved him.
Giyuu collapsed against her, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he came down from his high, still buried inside her as the two panted.
Her hands moved of their own accord to card through his raven hair, fingertips massaging his scalp as his breathing slowed, his breath adding further moisture to the already sweat-dampened skin of her neck.
She wished they could remain like that always; that the dawn creeping over the horizon would not herald forth the sun, and they could stay on the floor of the garden hut forever, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She desperately wanted to memorize the tempo of his heart as it beat steadily against his chest, the vibrations of which she felt against her ribs. Such a beautiful melody, it was, and yet it filled her with such despair to know she might never again hear its sweet song; that it might cease playing forever, the moment Giyuu resumed being the Water Pillar once more, and walked through the shrine gates for the last time.
But Y/N had never had anyone she could call her own, and as much as she loved the man nuzzling her neck as he whispered sweet nothings against her skin, he’d never been hers to keep.
“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N,” Giyuu murmured, kissing his way up her throat to her lips. “Are you alright?”
She held his lips for a moment before breaking away, letting her eyes roam his face, and she nodded. “Are you?”
To her utter surprise, the Water Pillar chuckled softly, his laugh breathy and his smile heartbreakingly beautiful. “Yes, my treasure. I am more than alright.”
He brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose. “After all, I am with you.”
———-
He’d brought her against his chest and they’d laid there together, simply staring at one another, trading soft kisses as Giyuu traced a finger over every feature of her face at least twice.
If he was to die, he knew his last thoughts would be of her, and he wanted to be sure he’d committed every last detail of her face to memory.
Soon, far too soon, the deep indigo of the night sky was broken by the first, watery rays of morning light, and both the Miko and the Slayer knew their time was up.
The lovers dressed quickly, their backs to one another as both steeled themselves for the goodbye they could no longer avoid.
And now, that time had come. Though it was Giyuu who walked to his likely doom, Y/N felt as if she was embarking on her own death march as the pair drew near the towering Shrine gate. Perhaps she was; after all, he would be taking her heart with him, and she was unlikely to get it back.
Y/N did not know whether to lean in and kiss him, one last time, or whether such a display of affection would only scratch at the gaping, open wounds they now bore on their chests, where their hearts had been.
Giyuu, apparently, did not know what to do either, so the two only stood there beneath the Torii, eyes swimming with emotions neither could bear to voice.
There was a beat, and then the two moved toward one another, drawn together like magnets as they locked themselves in a tight embrace. Giyuu’s hand cupped the back of her skull as Y/N pressed her face hard into his shoulder. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his haori, desperate to keep him rooted to her — to life, safe and away from demons.
But he couldn’t stay; she knew that. And so, with a deep inhale in a desperate attempt to memorize that mahogany and citrus scent of his she so adored, Y/N pulled away. She made to step back from him entirely, to put distance between them, but those warm fingers caught her under her chin, tilting her head up to face him before his hand slid to cup her cheek.
The emotion swimming in the azure depths of his irises threatened to chisel away at the lock she kept on her own. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would not let them fall; she would not make this harder for herself — for him — than it already was.
“If you do not hear from me, leave the mountain. Go to the city, and do not go out at night. Keep your dagger and wisteria on you at all times, even when you sleep,” Giyuu’s eyes were serious, the hand on her face holding her in place. “Live, Y/N. Grow to be an old woman. Die only from age.”
The shrine maiden closed her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. “And if you win?”
Giyuu hesitated for a moment and Y/N knew better than to ask him to make a promise he could not keep.
“Send a crow, if you can.” She whispered, feigning a small smile. “It would be nice to not be afraid to go and gather night-blooming herbs.”
The Water Pillar nodded, his hand smoothing through her hair one last time as his lips pressed against her forehead. “Thank you, Y/N.”
She didn’t need to ask what for.
She hoped she’d never forget the way he said her name; the longing and the breathless passion that dripped from every syllable, and the way it sent shivers down her spine.
Giyuu broke away from her and set off towards the east. Y/N watched until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, before he disappeared entirely.
He did not look back.
————————
He hadn’t trusted himself to look back at her, though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to turn around and behold her beauty one last time. But the Shrine Maiden had become his largest weakness, and Giyuu knew if he’d looked back, he would never make it back to his estate; to the Corps.
And if you win? She’d asked him, and he hadn’t been able to form the words of the answer he’d so desperately wanted to give her.
Because while Giyuu Tomioka never made promises he couldn’t keep, that did not mean he didn’t hope. Right then, more than anything, his greatest desire was to win this war; win it, and come back and tell Y/N that she no longer needed to fear the night.
In any other life — if Giyuu had been any other man — there would be no question as to who he’d choose to spend the rest of his days with.
And so, Giyuu thought as he forced himself to march forward, his eyes burning, if he made it out of this war alive, he would go back to the Shrine and tell Y/N of their victory himself.
And perhaps she’d then allow him to make her his wife.
Keep an eye out for Part II to see if Giyuu comes back and makes good on his promise!
COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!
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WHISPERED PROMISES—S. SHINICHIRO
જ⁀➴ synopsis: you meet shinichiro one day when he’s working in his shop. you’re sweet, nice and there’s an obvious tension between you two. you feel like a teenager with the way he’s making you nervous, but you accept to go on a date with him. things only get better from there.
જ⁀➴ content warning: so much fluff i almost cried, fem!reader, you and shin have the biggest crush on each other, he’s so sweet and respectful, eventual smut, mentions of a breeding kink, protected sex, fingering, oral (fem! receiving), pussy whipped shinichiro, dirty talk, lots of kisses, shin has a big dick<3
જ⁀➴word count: 7,9k (lord have mercy)
જ⁀➴note: a great thank you to @mztoman for commissioning me again!! I got so carried with this fic, the plot was just so good!!
COMMISSIONS ARE STILL OPEN: 1 SLOT LEFT.
COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!
Working on weekends was Shinichiro’s least favorite thing about his job. He tried his best to make it a good experience, he really did, but he was tired from a long week of working eight hours a day (and sometimes more when there was an emergency). And so, small things got on his nerves.
His lunchbox wouldn’t open, he forgot to pack chopsticks with him, he forgot to put water in his mini-fridge, the air conditioner was barely working—good lord, he was getting so annoyed.
Ring!
Oh great, a customer visiting when he was at his wits ends. Shinichiro stands up from his crouching position next to the bike he was working on. He grabs the rug that was attached to his pants and wipes his hands. He was expecting the usual type of customers; rude, stubborn, the know-it-all who tried to explain to him his own job and how it’s done. All in all, unlikeable.
Though, he is pleasantly surprised when he finds a girl standing at the door, looking around his shop with heart eyes. You looked so lost in your thoughts, your hands gripping your hand bag so tightly (from nervousness? Shinichiro wasn’t sure). Your stance was polite, and you looked in awe at his work. Maybe working today wasn’t such a bad idea if his first customer of the day is someone like you.
He brushes off the thoughts, telling himself that you looked young—no, way too young for someone like him. Plus, he wasn’t exactly the luckiest with girls. He’s had his fair share of hookups, tried to be in relationships, but things just never worked out for him.
He rolls his shoulders as he approaches you, greeting you with a wave. He was tall, had a smile that had you feeling a little dizzy—good god, this man was attractive. Whether it be the way he carried himself, or how he wiped the dirt off his hands, you could tell that he was hardworking and truly loved his job.
“Hi, welcome to our shop.” He really hoped that his voice wouldn’t crack and embarrass him. Technically, it was his shop and he was proud of it. It wasn’t exactly the fanciest out there, but it was his pride and joy. The display of the many bikes that he owned always caught people’s attention outside and left him grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello, thank you, I didn’t think anyone was here,” you were nervous, he could tell by watching you relax and clench your hands more than once.
“Well, someone has to be here,” he jokes and for a second, he can tell you were glad that he did. His playful remark somehow made you relax, and you let out a slightly less nervous giggle (which sounded so fucking adorable).
“You’re right, my bad.” You start looking around the shop again, and the man thinks it’s time to try to get to know you a little better. How can he do that without appearing to be invading your personal space? Should he immediately ask for your name? No, that’s too bold. Maybe…Maybe taking the professional approach will work.
“Can I see your driver’s license?” Very subtle.
You don’t hesitate as you pull it out and hand it to the tall man, and you watch as his eyes scan it for a good five seconds before humming in approval.
You were indeed younger, but only four years younger than him, really fucking attractive. He thought that there is no way you were single, but then again there was no ring on your finger—should he just ask you if you were in a relationship? Nu-uh, too soon.
“Alright, and how can I help you?”
“I am here to fix my friend’s bike for her birthday,”
“Oh you have a biker friend? So you know a little about them?”
“Only the basics, I’m more of an avid fan of the races rather than a participator.” You let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. You weren’t lying, you did enjoy watching more than riding them. But only because you tried before and failed miserably, and you weren’t going to include such embarrassing detail to a handsome stranger.
“Okay, what does she need help with exactly?”
You go into detail of what had happened, and how your friend had stopped riding her motorcycle just because she was too busy saving up money for something else. And with her birthday coming up, you thought you could sneakily get a family member of hers to bring the bike to this particular shop and get it fixed right on time. Shinichiro agrees to help you, and you both settle on the price rather quickly. Now you no longer had a reason to be in the shop, but you didn’t exactly want to leave either.
“You’re not busy?”
“Not at all,” you look at the display of the many fancy motorcycles he owned, letting out a “wow” at how shiny and pretty they looked. He took good care of them.
“My name is Shinichiro, by the way.” He takes his hand out to shake yours and you accept it immediately. You try not to blush at how rough his hand felt, evidence of true hard work. Could he get any more attractive?
“Nice to meet you, Shinichiro,” you grin at the man, and feel him squeeze your hand tightly before relaxing. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but hesitated and thought ‘nevermind’. But the longer you stayed in his shop, the more obvious it was to the man that if you left the shop without his number, he would be the one to call himself a loser. No need for Benkei and Wakasa to do that for him.
“So, uh…” His lips part, his hand comes to the back of his neck and your heart picks up its pace. You could see that the tips of his ears were turning red, and his hand hadn’t let go of yours. “This is a little unprofessional of me…” He mumbles to himself. He sighs and you chuckle and at the dilemma he seems to be in, but that sound alone seems to encourage him to speak more. He wants to hear you laugh again, you seemed very comfortable with what was happening.
“Would you like to go out sometime? I’d like to know you better, you seem like a really nice girl and—“
“Absolutely.” You don’t let him go on with his little ramble, only flash him a nervous grin. The apples of your cheeks were as red as his, and it truly felt like two teenagers confessing to one another. You loved a man that made you feel like this.
“Oh?” He grins back, and his hand slides down from his nape to the back pocket of his jeans. “Great, when are you available?”
“Tomorrow, my place.” Shinichiro almost chokes on his saliva at your words. Your place? It was too early for that, not that he minded—but he wanted to be a gentleman, wait at least a few dates before even trying to get in bed with you—
Sensing that he was malfunctioning, your other hand slides on top of the hand that was holding yours and you squeeze it in reassurance.
“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I just thought going to a restaurant would be a waste of money—and personally, I love cooking. We can just watch a movie and hang out?” You felt like such a breath of fresh air. Somehow, feeling your skin against his made him immediately relax.
It’s not the idea of coming to your place that scared him, he just always thought you only do that after a while of dating. But here you were, suggesting that an indoor date would be better and cheaper than at a restaurant. Plus, he felt like he could get to know you better if you’re sitting on the couch together alone rather than in a place filled with people.
“I love the idea. So, tomorrow?”
“8PM, how does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
--
After exchanging phone numbers, you and Shinichiro practically texted almost all night. You talked about everything and nothing, almost forgetting to send him your location. Turns out, you didn’t really live that far away from his own place, nearly less than a five minute walk.
He was really nervous. He didn’t tell anyone about the date, made up some bullshit of a lie that he was going out for a few hours and his friends were already eyeing him weird. He simply wanted to take his time with you. Your chemistry seemed promising even though you’ve known each other for less than a day.
He didn’t want to get his hopes up, and if you were going to choose not to go out on a date with him again, he could at least keep it a secret to himself.
Since you were the one cooking tonight, Shinichiro thought it would be rude if he didn’t bring anything with him. So he got a bouquet, brought board games with him and some drinks just in case. He felt stupid for not having asked you beforehand what kind of drinks you liked, but he was almost at your place. No time for regrets.
You had also told him to dress comfortably. You were going to chill in your living room for a while, and you wanted your date to feel as natural as possible. So here he was, dressed in a white hoodie and some grey sweatpants, his hair was still slightly wet from the quick shower he took after getting off work, and he hoped that he wouldn’t catch a cold.
Arriving at your doorstep, the man was more than sure that this was your place. You had a cute doormat with the word ‘WELCOME’ written in bold, along with two huge plants on either side of it. If your doorstep felt this cozy, he could only imagine what the inside looks like.
Knock, knock, knock.
He waits approximately three seconds before he hears the sound of you running barefoot to the doorstep, a muffled “I’m coming!” accompanied with it. You handle a few locks before opening the door, greeting him with the cutest smile he’s ever seen. He doesn’t have time to look at your outfit or tell you how nice you look before you were wrapping your arms around him. You don’t squeeze too tight, but Shinichiro feels you flinch and pull away.
“Oh, sorry! I got too excited—“ you’re blushing—fuck, you’re blushing and he’s getting butterflies in his stomach like a teenager. Shinichiro has been on enough dates to know the difference between feeling nervous and having an absolute crush on his date—it was the latter with you.
“It’s okay, I like hugs,” he places the bag full of goods on the floor and pulls you in another hug, his hand caressing your back gently. He hopes you can’t hear how loud his heart is beating, because then he would be fucked.
“You smell really good,” you mumble against his chest and you feel him hum. He leans down and you can feel his nose on top of your head—this was too intimate for a first date, but neither of you minded.
“You smell like roses,” he lets you pull away from the hug, grinning from ear to ear that his words were getting you to blush this hard.
“Thank you.” So shy, so sweet--
I swear if this doesn’t work out, I’ll never date again.
“Oh how rude of me, please come on in!” You lead him all the way inside, and Shinichiro can finally take a look at your outfit. You were wearing the cutest dress that reached right above your knees, along with a pair of fuzzy socks. You looked so comfortable and adorable, he couldn’t help the smile on his lips.
“Quite the cute outfit,” his tone is playful, it makes you pause what you were doing in the kitchen to give him a playful glare yourself.
“Yeah, yeah, I told you I wanted us to feel comfortable. It’s bad enough that my heart is about to explode,” so it wasn’t just him feeling nervous, cool.
“You’re also nervous?”
“Also?” now it’s your turn to sound playful and the man laughs at your antics. He takes a seat on your couch, and waits for you to join him. He looks around your apartment, and takes in how well thought everything seemed to be. From the candles sitting by the tiny coffee table, to the polaroids hanging on the wall—your place felt like a perfect representation of how you were as a person and as a friend; comforting and sweet.
“You got me my favorite drink!” Your excited voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He stares at you and the way your eyes seem to light up at a simple drink. He picked out the flavor very randomly, his thought process was ‘I hope she likes this’ and turns out, you did.
Lucky him. Everything he seemed to do or pick for you aligned perfectly with your preferences. Though, he couldn’t deny that he was eager to learn more about you; what you did for a living, what your favorite pet was, your sleeping schedule, your favorite place to eat—he needed to stop.
You approached the TV and grabbed your remote control before turning around to face him.
“Food is almost ready, wanna watch something in the mean time?” Shinichiro nods and you quickly take a seat next to him on the couch.
“So, what kind of shows are you into?”
The next half hour passes by rather quickly, and you end up not watching anything as you both chat on the couch. He helps you check in on the food when you gasp in horror, thinking that it got burned—but thank god, it didn’t. You talk about your childhood, what you did for a living and how things were going for you. If you had any friends living nearby, where you grew up. You appreciated how attentive the dark haired male sitting on your kitchen stool was, your heart skipped a beat every time he flashed you an adorable grin. You were absolutely doomed.
“How about you though, any friends or family living around you?” You ask as you start serving the pasta on the plates he helped setting on the table. He hums in response, but you think it was directed towards the food and how delicious it looked.
“I have two siblings, a brother and a sister.”
“Younger?”
“Yeah, how did you know?” he quirks an eyebrow at you and you shrug your shoulders.
“You give off oldest brother vibes,”
“In a good way I hope,” he teases, waiting for you to take a seat facing him.
“An amazing way, you seem very caring and selfless.” You light up the candle sitting in the middle of the table, and Shinichiro tries his best not to stare for too long when you stand up to do it. You were leaning down, the light coming from the candle made you look ten times prettier tonight.
Well, fuck me.
You catch him staring at you, the taller guy almost cooing at how you seemed to blush at his attention. A shy ‘what?’ leaves your lips and Shinichiro shakes his head in response.
“Just—you look so pretty,” he was being honest. He wasn’t trying to scare you away or seem creepy, Shinichiro was just an honest man.
“Oh please—have you seen yourself? You’re so handsome, it should be illegal!”
“Not gonna lie, I am handsome,” you stare at him in disbelief, before breaking into a laugh.
“What? My parents were very beautiful people,”
“Oh, I’m not saying otherwise. It just caught me off guard,” you giggled, grabbing your fork to eat your spaghetti.
“Plus, I look like my mom. It’s my biggest flex,” you notice how he smiles when he mentions his mom, and realize that he used the past tense when referring to his parents. Should you ask him about them or not?
“Were they nice people?” you were thankful that he caught on who you were referring to, and gave you a nod.
“The best.”
--
Dinner went on very smoothly with you two chatting here and there. There seemed to be no hole in your conversations, and when it suddenly got quiet, you’d immediately fill it with a new topic. Talking to him was just so fun.
He helps you clean the dishes (despite you saying he doesn’t have to) and you learn from standing next to him without your shoes on that he was a rather tall man. His stature was incredibly attractive even with a hoodie on, and he seemed to love dancing while washing the dishes.
“Oh did I tell you I have a niece?” you gasp at the revelation, almost dropping the board game he brought with him.
“You do? Show me!” he immediately whips out his phone and shows you the folder he has dedicated to pictures of him and his niece. He has approximately 500 pictures of her and she’s the sweetest girl ever.
She looks exactly like him, you almost think that he’s lying to you about being her uncle. You can definitely tell that she got her blond hair from her mom (you passed by a few pictures of the little girl with her parents), but she definitely looked like uncle’s favorite girl.
He tells you about her, how she brought some joy to his life a year ago when she was born. You listen to him and admire how his eyes are full of love when speaking of her—this man was the greenest flag you’ve ever met.
“I’d love for you to meet her, y’know if we see each other again,” he hesitates as he says the last sentence, but your hand is immediately wrapped around his arm before you squeeze it reassuringly.
“I would love to meet her,” even if you didn’t explicitly say it, you were hinting that you were looking forward to your next date together. Lucky Shinichiro.
The rest of the night is filled with laughter as you try all the board games he brought with him. Even when you got bored and decided to do something else, the man was down for whatever as long as it meant making you smile and giggle until your stomach was hurting. He loved how you seemed to encourage him whenever he doubted himself, he also noticed that your hand would always land on his back in reassurance when he lost (mostly to tease him, but you still loved feeling his muscular back through the fabric of his hoodie).
It was around 11:30PM when Shin finally decided it was time to head back home, and he had to fight the urge to kiss your lips when you sulked at the realization that it was time for him to leave.
“Man, that was too fast,” you complain as you both walk towards the door, and he chuckles at how whiny you suddenly got.
“Hey, it’s not like we won’t see each other again, yeah?” his hand landed on your back to reassure you the same way you did when he lost, and he noticed how you seemed to melt at his touch.
“Yeah,” you reply in a small voice, shy and suddenly too aware of your loud heartbeat.
Was he going to give you a hug? Kiss you? You were honestly hoping for a kiss, maybe a quick peck?
You were thinking too much.
“Thank you for tonight, I really had so much fun with you,” his hand rested at your shoulder, and you almost melted when he squeezed it. His hand was big and warm, you couldn’t stop thinking of how nice it would feel if you held it, kissed the skin or maybe traced the scars on it.
“I had so much fun too,” you reply, your hand instinctively wrapping itself around his wrist. Your thumb caresses the skin there, and while your heart was telling you that this was the right thing to do, your brain was scolding you for being so forward.
Shinichiro could swear that his heart was about to come out of his throat when your hand wrapped around his wrist. Your warm touch and caring nature had the man feeling dizzy, blushing once again like he’s never felt a woman’s touch before.
“Goodnight,” he pulls you towards him to hug you, grabbing both your arms to wrap them around his waist. This doesn’t necessarily catch you off guard since your brain had been screaming at you to wait for him to do something.
“Goodnight Shinichiro,” your head rests on his chest, a smile adorning your lips. You pull away from the hug a few seconds later, and wait for him to put on his shoes before opening the door for him.
“Text me when you get home,” you say in a low voice, trying not to disturb the neighbors and he nods.
“I will, bye!”
“Bye!” you wave at him, watching his back as he slowly walks away from your apartment. You close the door and stand there for a moment, trying to recollect your thoughts. This was by far one of the best first dates you’ve been on. Not only was Shinichiro such a sweetheart, but you had so much fun with him. You felt like you could hang out with him forever, you couldn’t wait for your next date together—fuck, perhaps you were rushing things? Maybe he wanted to wait a couple of days before calling you again, or maybe he won’t call you at all—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Your heart stills at the sound, you almost grab your phone to call the police. But something tells you to open the door anyway, and when you do, two warm hands are grabbing your face and pulling you out of your apartment.
Shinichiro?
“What are you—“
“I wanna kiss you—can I kiss you?” he looks out of breath and his cheeks are pink. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he ran, or if he was flustered. But either way, your cheeks are the same color as his when you hear his request.
“Kiss me, please.”
That was all what he needed to hear before pressing his lips against yours. His lips are warm and soft, and he kisses you so passionately that you can feel your head spinning. Your hands are balled up in fists, tightly holding onto the fabric of his hoodie to keep him closer to you. Shinichiro’s bigger frame is obvious when he kisses you, his entire form leans over you and it makes you blush even more.
Your lips move together for a few more moments before you’re both pulling away, the taller male still pressing kisses all over your face before pecking you on the lips one last time.
“Goodnight,” he says one last time, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before walking away from your apartment.
You close the door once again, and for a moment you feel like a main character in a romance drama. You lean your weight against the wall and feel your burning cheeks with your hands.
“Oh… my god,”
Shinichiro was going to be all you could think of for the next few days.
---
After your first date together, you and Shinichiro went on four more dates. Each one had a different vibe to it; at the fair, at a café, another date at your place and the most recent one was a cute lunch date at his bike shop. He fixed your friend’s bike but you also preferred being alone with him rather than outside with a crowd of people. Not that you didn’t appreciate the dates at the fair and the café, you were still feeling giddy from knowing each other, and so it felt more intimate to spend time together like this.
Shinichiro hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and you were more than okay with it. You could tell he was waiting for the right moment to do it, it was adorable. There were times where it would get quiet between you two and you would find him staring at you so lovingly, it made your heart stutter in your chest.
He was about to come pick you up from your place very soon, and you remember him telling you to wear something comfortable which intrigued you. Where was he taking you exactly?
Soon after, you heard familiar three knocks at your door and almost jumped from the couch. You were so excited to see him, the part of your brain that usually embarrassed you for being so excited for a date was buried somewhere—this was Shinichiro, the same man who hugged and kissed you so passionately on your first date, held your hand at the fair and pecked your lips after winning a teddy bear for you. He got you food when you told him you were too tired to cook, and cleaned your kitchen despite you telling him he didn’t have to.
And he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet.
You brushed off the negativity aside, trying to tell yourself that the pit in your stomach was from excitement and not disappointment. He’s been so good to you, just because he was taking too long to make things official didn’t mean he was playing you.
You hoped.
You open the door and is greeted with a good looking Shinichiro. It was dark outside, it was 9PM and so the street light made him look extra attractive.
He always looked good, but this time—wow. He was wearing a leather jacket with some jeans and a white shirt, and he had his helmet in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. You tried your best not to blush at the sight of his hair slicked back, but you were so used to turning red in his presence that you just let it happen.
“Well hello there handsome,” you try to tease him, hoping that it makes your blush die down and give you a hint of confidence, but it withers away so fast when he places his helmet on the floor and pulls you into a hug. He smells so fucking good, it should be unfair.
“Hi pretty, ready for our date?” He pulls away from the hug to stare at your outfit and hums when he sees that you’re wearing shorts and a cardigan. “You look adorable.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your red cheek, and chuckles when you look down shyly.
“Thank you,”
“Still shy?” He teases, handing you the bouquet which you hold carefully.
“Shut up, it’s not my fault,” you walk back inside your place and Shinichiro waits for you by the door with his helmet. You put the bouquet of flowers in a vase and fill it with water before putting it on your table. This way, it always felt like a part of him was around you.
“It’s cute,” he flashes you a smile and you have to look away to try to calm your nerves. Making you feel this nervous should be illegal. Did he cast some spell on you?
“Anyway big boy, where are we going?” you walk out of your apartment and close the door, and when you turn around to face the taller guy, he places his helmet on your head and helps adjusting it so that it doesn’t fall off.
“I’m taking you somewhere, do you trust me?” He points at his motorcycle waiting for you both in front of your building and your lips part in awe. He was taking you for a ride on his most treasured possession?
“I do,” he sees that you’re in deep thought and squeezes your shoulder.
“Then let’s go.”
He gets on top of his bike and helps you sit behind him, and at first you hesitate on where to put your hands—until you feel him wrap your arms around his waist and tug you to press your chest on his back.
“Hold on tight, okay?” You could swear he was doing it on purpose, but you don’t think much of it when he’s suddenly speeding away from your apartment building.
It takes you ten minutes to get to your destination, with Shinichiro showing off his skills and laughing when you scream in horror when you get too close to car. You never thought that he would drive so…recklessly, but it was fun. He parks his motorcycle very close to where you were both standing, facing a small lake that you always passed by when going to work. It had pretty cherry trees, and people always took their dogs out on walks or walked with their partners here.
“I love this place,” you whisper, standing close to Shinichiro who chuckles at your words. He knows, you mentioned it before when you were having lunch together.
“I know, you always stare at it when we drive past it,”
He noticed. You almost coo at this, and stare up at the tall man through your eyelashes. Your arms instinctively wrap around his waist and he pulls you closer to him, resting your head on his chest.
“You like it?”
“I love it,” you pull away from the hug to rest your chin on his chest, staring up at him with the same eyes that always had the man weak in the knees. His hand caresses the top of your head as he stares down at you, and it slowly slips from the top to the back of your head.
“If you keep staring at me like that, I might just kiss you,” although there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, you could tell he was being serious. And who were you to deny a kiss from him?
“Kiss me, Shin,” the man doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s leaning down to kiss you. You sigh in the kiss, his hands hold your face so gently that it makes you melt into his touch.
When you both pull away, you’re glad that it was dark outside or your faces would’ve given away how flustered you were. He can still tell from your warm cheeks that you were blushing and leans down to give you a quick peck.
“Can I be your boyfriend?” This man was too much for your heart to handle. You thought he was attractive, well-mannered and a gentleman—but this really takes the cake.
You’re excited, giddy that you could finally make things official with him. You’ve been waiting for this day since your first date—and it finally happened.
“Gladly.”
You and Shinichiro were officially girlfriend and boyfriend.
---
Today, you were going to meet Shinichiro’s niece. His sister had asked him if he could babysit her and he agreed, asking her if you could tag along which she agreed to. She wanted to meet you, and you weren’t opposed to the idea. Emma seemed very sweet from the many times Shin mentioned her, and so meeting her didn’t stress you out that much.
You got to Emma and Draken’s place at 5PM, they wanted to go on a date (which was well deserved) and so asking Shinichiro to babysit her seemed like the best option since the baby was in love with him. You greet the couple with a smile, and you watch as Emma shows Shinichiro where the bottles and diapers are, and what to do in case she cried—which he knew about already. His sister was just anxious, and probably felt a little too guilty to be taking some time away from her little girl.
“Have fun!”
Now it was just you, Shin and the little girl. For a one year old, she sure had a lot of personality. And you think that she definitely got it from her uncle. She giggles at everything he does and loves to sit on his lap, but when she noticed you sitting on the couch, her eyes lit up. She was intrigued, and she rarely ever met a new person.
You weren’t a familiar face, but she didn’t cry when you asked Shin if you could hold her. She gladly let you take her in your arms and even giggled and buried her face in your chest when you flashed her a small smile. What an angel.
“Oh are you getting shy on me?” You stand up from the couch with her in your arms and walk to the kitchen to get her one of the snacks her mother had prepared for her. You held her in one arm while the free one grabbed her chair to sit her there.
Shinichiro watched the scene unfold and could feel his body tense up. Whatever it was that had him feeling this… dizzy, he needed to brush it off. You were so good with his niece, so gentle and caring—you talked to her with so much tender and his niece seemed to love you; a complete stranger she just met. You treated her like she was your own baby, changed her diaper and helped getting her to bed, you even gave her a bath and Shinichiro could only imagine what it would be like to have a baby with you.
Watching you walk around your shared apartment with a belly full of his baby, so sore and whiny. You would cuddle up against him and he would feel the baby kick, you would place his hand on your stomach and he would caress the skin lovingly. You would be so needy and horny, grinding against his thigh and he would help you—his pretty little wife, bringing you to an earth shattering orgasm—
Shit, he was getting hard.
He was so relieved when Emma and Draken came back, their daughter was fast asleep and you both were cuddling on the couch. He didn’t realize how rushed his goodbyes were until he felt you tagging at his sleeve in front of the car.
“Shin? Are you okay?” You were worried, his pretty angel so concerned for him, so unaware that the thought of breeding you was all over his mind. He didn’t want to scare you away, but he thought since you’ve already made it official and made out a couple of times, he could tell you what was on his mind.
“Can you come over?”
“To your place?” You tilt your head to the side and Shinichiro nods.
“Spend the night, I need you.”
He needs you.
You felt yourself get dizzy at his words, lips parted in shock. You weren’t taken aback by the fact that he was horny for you, but saying it out loud and sounding so…desperate, you could feel your panties getting embarrassingly wet.
“I’ll give you my hoodie, I can go to your place and get you some clothes I just—“ He knew he was rambling, but he didn’t want you to think that he only cared about his pleasure, not when he knew the night was going to be all about you.
“Shin,” you cut him off, and the man stares down at you. “I need you too, please,”
---
Once at Shinichiro’s place, you didn’t have time to take off your jacket before he was pushing you up against the wall and kissing you so feverishly. You don’t know what set him off, but you weren’t opposed to it. His hands were helping you rid yourself of your jacket before slipping behind your thighs to grip the skin.
He pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, panting and already so out of breath.
“If you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, tap my arm, okay?”
So cute. Your response was a moan before you were kissing him again, this time trying to deepen it more than before. Shin taps your butt and asks you to jump, and when you do he wraps your legs around his waist and starts heading towards his bedroom. He kisses you like he means it, and unlike other kisses you’ve shared before, this one has a hint of lust to it—it tastes different; needy, demanding, and you melt into it like butter.
You expect his room to be a little messy, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you see how tidy it is. It smelled of sandalwood and his perfume, bed neatly made. He throws you on top of it like you weigh nothing, and is immediately on top of you after stripping himself of his own jacket. He gets back to kissing you, this time you’re aware of what’s pressing against your thigh and you don’t mind at all—instead, you’re pushing him away from you to sit up on your elbows.
“Are you—“
“Shut up and help me take off my shirt,” Shin’s lips are sealed shut at your words, then he’s doing as told. He helps you take off your shirt and grunts at the sight of you in your bra. Your tits looked gorgeous. He leans down and presses a kiss to the skin below your collarbone, hands sliding up to your shorts to pull them down in on fast movement and you squeal.
“Shin!”
“You don’t mind me getting a little taste first, right?” A blush spreads across your cheeks but you shake your head almost frantically at his words. You wiggle yourself out of your shorts, giving him a little show by letting them hang to your ankle for a moment before throwing them somewhere in his room. You giggle when he leans in and presses a kiss to your calf, but it turns into a moan when he licks all the way up to your inner thigh.
“You wanna tease me, is that it?” His mouth leaves wet kisses all over your inner thighs, before finally getting to your panties. He is shameless as he takes a whiff of your arousal through the damp fabric, and you almost kick him away because of how embarrassing it looks.
“You smell—fucking heavenly, “ he practically moans out the last part, and it makes a shy sound erupt from the back of your throat, looking away from him. But he’s having none of that—not tonight. He wanted you to look him dead in the eyes as he fucked every thought out of your head, wanted to feel you clamp around his dick as he brought you to a mind spinning orgasm.
You gasp when you feel him remove your panties in one swift motion, not even stuttering and hesitating as he balls them up and puts them in his pocket. You couldn’t even ask him what he was going to do with them before he was leaning down and spreading your pussy lips with a breathy moan. He looked so gone and he hasn’t even touched you yet, the sight of him looking so in love with your pussy made your clit throb—which made him audibly grunt.
“You’re a treat,” you don’t respond verbally—you can’t since he immediately wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You inhale sharply at the contact, back arching and jaw going slack when he proceeds to pull away and flatten his tongue on the sensitive bud. Your eyes are rolled to the back of your head when he repeats the same movements—sucks, pulls away, kisses and then licks. It seems like a simple formula, and you can feel yourself getting louder and wetter but you have no care in the world. He’s eating you out so good, he’s showing no signs of stopping and you don’t want him to. Plus, whatever turned him on tonight must’ve made him feral if he was all over you like a mad man.
“Shin—oh fuck, oh baby,” you’re out of breath, your hands are flailing around trying to find where to grip. Until you feel the man between your legs grab your hand and placed them on top of his head. He wanted you to pull his hair, Jesus fuck.
You don’t have time to think properly, not that you can. You’re pulling at Shinichiro’s hair, hips bucking and stuttering with every strong lick on your clit. Your body is arching off the bed, and you sit up with a huff. Shinichiro can tell you’re about to cum when he pushed your body back down and slides in two fingers at a time. He looks up and has to hold himself back from cumming in his pants when he sees the blissed out look on your face—glossy eyes, bruised lips and red cheeks. You were a sight to see.
He helps you reach your orgasm with fast thrusts of his fingers, kissing the inner of your thigh and humming quietly about how well you were doing for him, how you were going to take his dick like a champ, how he can’t wait to stuff your cunt full of him and—
“Fuck!” You cry out, your body stuttering and shuddering as you finally get to cum. You ride out your orgasm by grinding your hips to the same rhythm as Shinichiro’s thrusts, and you whine at him when you can feel him kiss your clit, praising you for doing so well for him.
“My pretty girl, my gorgeous girl—you did so well,” he whispers and kisses your stomach, and you look down at him with lustful eyes and a fucked out expression, which he chuckles at.
Your eyes follow his every move as he gets up from between your legs and walks to his nightstand. He opens a drawer and grabs a condom, and you almost whine at him for that.
“Ah, baby. We gotta be careful,” he soothes you with a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing circles on the skin before traveling down to your lips. He feels like a mad man when you open your mouth and take his thumb in, swirling your tongue around before gently biting it. What a fucking tease.
“Next time, you can do that to my cock, yeah?” He whispers to you and you nod, but your eyes are wide and blown out with lust as you stare down at the visible bulge in his pants. He chuckles at your stare, and gives you a little show as he takes off his shirt—flaunting the body that he has even if it wasn’t the fittest, he was proud of it.
Then he’s wiggling out of his pants, and grins when you reach your hand towards his boxers to palm his hard-on. He grabs your wrist and shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your hand.
“I said next time, hm?”
You don’t have time to pout about it before he’s taking off his boxers—and holy shit. He had your mouth watering, but your heart stutters and jumps in your chest at the thought of such a heavy cock inside of you. Shin watches as your expression changes and he chuckles, his cheeks reddening a little. For a man who was so full of confidence a few moments ago, seeing you look so in love with his cock made him feel a little proud.
“Next time when you go on the pill, I’ll fill you up so good,” he rips the condom with his mouth and swiftly places it on his dick, he watches as you eagerly spread your legs to welcome him between them and you nod at his words, even though you’re mainly focused on his cock.
“Yeah? You’d like that?” he lines up the tip with your entrance and you nod desperately, feeling yourself get even more turned on. “You’d like me to cum inside you, watch it leak out of you when we go for rounds?”
You’re a moaning mess by the time he slips it inside. You cling to his shoulders, face scrunched up in pleasure when you’re able to feel the sheer size of him inside you. Holy shit.
“Yeah baby, you won’t even have to work for it,” he adds, sounding out of breath. He pushes your legs up and shamelessly stares at how you’re taking his dick—your pussy swallows him back every time he tries to pull out, almost begs him to keep fucking you.
“Gonna give my pretty girl exactly what she wants—shit, gonna fuck her full of my cum,” your tummy is alive with butterflies at his words, and you stare up at the man who looks so focused on your pussy. Feeling your stare, Shinichiro locks eyes with you and chuckles. He’s all sweaty and fucked out himself, and the smile he flashes you when he starts to drill his cock into you is devilish.
He knew what he was doing, and you weren’t complaining about it. Your body feels on fire with every drive of is hips, fingernails digging into the skin of his back when he reaches that one spongy spot in your walls—you squeal, hands traveling down almost to push his hips away and that’s when he knows he found it and fuck—he starts to bully it.
You’re a sobbing mess, begging for absolutely nothing in particular but you keep chanting ‘please, please, please’ repeatedly, and Shincihiro has to lean down and kiss you. He soothes you with his lips, a heavy contrast to his mean thrusts. He’s fucking every thought out of your brain, and by the time you’re even able to come up with a coherent sentence, he pushes a single leg up on his shoulders—and your entire body seizes up.
You’re cumming hard around him, your jaw has gone slack and Shinichiro doesn’t stop. The bed shakes with every harsh thrust, and by the time you’re able to breathe again, you’re letting out a small scream at the intensity of your orgasm.
“Atta girl—fuuuuck, gonna make me cum,” he whines out the last part, his hands pinning your hips down to the mattress. You cry out from overstimulation, your pussy aching for him to slow down.
“Just a bit more baby, just a little—“ It only takes a few strokes for him to empty himself in the condom, reaching down to rest his forehead on your shoulder. You’re both a sweaty, panting mess, clinging onto each other as though you were one another’s life line. And even through heavy breaths, you kiss Shinichiro’s cheek, giggling when you see him smile.
“Are you okay?” He kisses your shoulder lovingly, letting his lips travel up to your neck where he feels you hum. You look down at him, letting your fingers brush the sweaty strands out of his face.
“Never been better,” Shinichiro grins at this, and he fixes himself until he’s able to kiss you properly on the lips. He makes it short and sweet, trying his best not to get carried away again because he knew you were definitely sore.
“Come on, you gotta get up and pee, darling.”
“And shower… I feel so sticky,” you make a face at the word sticky and the man above you chuckles at this.
“I like you like this, you smell like me.”
“Shin!”
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